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THE  ABBE  CONSTANTIN 


^hH  Cci«0tantin 


BY 


LLJDOVIC    HALEVY 

Illustrated  by 
MADELINE     LEMAIRE 


NEW   YORK        BOSTON 

H.    M.    CALDWELL  CO. 

PUBLISHERS 


%^ 


Copyright,  i8qi 
By  Nims  and  Knight 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


I.    The  Domain  for  Sale Page  5 

The  Cure's  Garden To  face  page  8 

News  of  the  Sale To  face  page  16 

The  Castle  of  Longueval Page  28 

II.    Arrival  at  the  Vicarage Page  29 

Pauline  and  Jean To  face  page  42 

In  the  Garden To  face  page  44 

Mrs.  Scott  and  Bettina      ....         Page  46 

III.  Dinner  at  the  Vicarage Page  47 

Mrs.  Scott  arranging  Bettina's 

Hair To  face  page  54 

In  the  Cemetery To  face  page  66 

Bettina  playing  the  Harmonium    .     .     .     Page  68 

IV.  The  Hundred  "Louis" Page  69 

At  the  Opera To  face  page  78 

Jean's  Study To  face  page  80 

The  Cure  Praying Page  81 

V.    "Mazette!" Page  82 

The  Confession To  face  page  96 

Leaving  the  Railway  Station    .   To  face  page  100 

"Good-bye,  my  Lovers!" Page  102 

3 


4  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

VI.    The  Drawing-room  at  Longueval      .     ,  Page  103 

On  the  Terrace To  face  page  114 

Mrs.  Scott  and  her  Children    .    To  face  page  IIG 
Bettina  at  the  Balcony Page  118 

VII.    The  Ride Page  119 

The  First   Tete-a-tete To  face  page  124 

Child  and  Pony Page  128 

VIII.    At  the  Ball Page  129 

"It  is  raining!" To  face  page  142 

Bettina's  Room To  face  page  148 

Rain  and  Wind To  face  page  152 

Good-bye  ! Page  155 

IX.    Bettina  at  the  Vicarage Page  156 

Will  it  be  Fine  ? To  face  page  150 

The  First  Kiss To  face  page  180 

The  Wedding »     .     .     .     .  Page  181 


THE   ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 


CHAPTER   I. 


With  a  step  still  valiant  and  firm  an  old  priest 
walked  along  the  dusty  road  in  the  full  rays  of 
a  brilliant  sun.  For  more  than  thirty  years  the 
Abbe  Constantin  had  been  Cure  of  the  little  village 
which  slept  there  in  the  plain,  on  the  banks  of  a 
slender  stream  called  la  Lizotte. 

The  Abbe  Constantin  was  walking  by  the  wall 
which  surrounded  the  park  of  the  castle  of  Longue- 
val ;  at  last  he  reached  the  entrance  gate,  which 
rested  high  and  massive  on  two  ancient  pillars  of 
stone,  embrowned  and  gnawed  by  time.     The  Cure 

5 


6  THE  ABBJS   CONSTANTIN, 

stopped,  and  mournfully  regarded  two  immense 
blue  posters  fixed  on  the  pillars. 

The  posters  announced  that  on  Wednesday,  May 
18th,  1881,  at  one  o'clock  p.m.,  would  take  place, 
before  the  Civil  Tribunal  of  Souvigny,  the  sale  of 
the  domain  of  Longueval,  divided  into  four  lots. 

1st.  The  castle  of  Longueval,  its  dependencies, 
fine  pieces  of  water,  extensive  offices,  park  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  hectares  in  extent,  completely 
surrounded  by  a  wall,  and  traversed  by  the  little 
river  Lizotte.  Valued  at  six  hundred  thousand 
francs. 

2nd.  The  farm  of  Blanche-Couronne,  three  hun- 
dred hectares,  valued  at  five  hundred  thousand 
francs. 

3rd.  The  farm  of  La  Kozeraie,  two  hundred  and 
fifty  hectares,  valued  at  four  hundred  thousand 
francs. 

4th.  The  woods  and  forests  of  La  Mionne,  con- 
taining four  hundred  and  fifty  hectares,  valued  at 
five  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs. 

And  these  four  amounts  added  together  at  the 
foot  of  the  bill  gave  the  respectable  sum  of  two 
millions  and  fifty  thousand  francs. 

Then  they  were  really  going  to  dismember  this 
magnificent  domain,  which,  escaping  all  mutilation, 
had  for  more  than  two  centuries  always  been  trans- 
mitted intact  from  father  to  son  in  the  family  of 
Longueval.  The  placards  also  announced  tluit  after 
the  temporary  division  into  four  lots  it  would  be 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  1 

()ossible  to  unite  them  again,  and  offer  for  sale  the 
entire  domain,  but  it  was  a  very  large  morsel,  and  to 
all  appearance  no  purchaser  would  present  himself. 

The  Marquise  de  Longueval  had  died  six  montlis 
before ;  in  1873  she  had  lost  her  only  son,  Kobert 
de  Longueval ;  the  three  heirs  were  the  grandchil- 
dren of  the  Marquise,  Pierre,  Helene,  and  Camille. 
It  had  been  found  necessary  to  offer  the  domain 
for  sale,  as  Helene  and  Camille  were  minors. 
Pierre,  a  young  man  of  three-and-twenty,  had  lived 
rather  fast,  was  already  half-ruined,  and  could  not 
hope  to  redeem  Longueval. 

It  was  mid-day.  In  an  hour  it  would  have  a 
new  master,  this  old  castle  of  Longueval ;  and  this 
master,  who  would  he  be  ?  What  woman  would 
take  the  place  of  the  old  Marquise  in  the  chimney 
corner  of  the  grand  salon,  all  adorned  with  ancient 
tapestry  —  the  old  Marquise,  the  friend  of  the  old 
priest  ?  It  was  she  who  had  restored  the  church  ; 
it  was  she  who  had  established  and  furnished  a 
complete  dispensary  at  the  vicarage  under  the  care 
of  Pauline,  the  Cure's  servant ;  it  was  she  who, 
twice  a  week,  in  her  great  barouche,  all  croAvded 
with  little  children's  clothes  and  thick  woollen 
petticoats,  came  to  fetch  the  Abbe  Constantin  to 
make  with  him  what  she  called  "la  chasse  aux 
pauvres." 

The  old  priest  continued  his  walk,  musing  over 
all  this  ;  then  he  thought  too  —  the  greatest  saints 
liave  their  little  weaknesses  —  he  thought  too  of 


8  THE  ABBE   CON  STAN  TIN. 

the  beloved  habits  of  thirty  years  thus  rudely  in- 
terrupted. Every  Thursday  and  every  Sunday  he 
had  dined  at  the  castle.  How  he  had  been  petted, 
coaxed,  indulged!  Little  Caraille  —  she  was  eight 
years  old  —  would  come  and  sit  on  his  knee  and 
say  to  him  — 

"You  know,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  it  is  in  your 
church  that  I  mean  to  be  married,  and  grandmamma 
will  send  such  heaps  of  Howers  to  fill,  quite  fill  the 
church  —  more  than  for  the  month  of  Mary.  It 
will  be  like  a  large  garden  —  all  white,  all  white, 
all  white ! " 

The  month  of  Mary !  It  was  then  the  month  of 
Mary.  Formerly  at  this  season  the  altar  disap- 
peared under  the  flowers  brought  from  the  conser- 
vatories of  Longueval.  None  this  year  were  on  the 
altar,  except  a  few  bouquets  of  lily-of-the-valley 
and  white  lilac  in  gilded  china  vases.  Formerly, 
every  Sunday  at  high  mass,  and  every  evening 
during  the  month  of  Mary,  Mademoiselle  Hebert, 
the  reader  to  Madame  de  Longueval,  played  the 
little  harmonium  given  by  the  Marquise.  Now 
the  poor  harmonium,  reduced  to  silence,  no  longer 
accompanied  the  voices  of  the  choir  or  the  chil- 
dren's hymns.  Mademoiselle  Marbeau,  the  post- 
mistress, would  with  all  her  heart  have  taken  the 
place  of  Mademoiselle  Hebert,  but  she  dared  not, 
though  she  was  a  little  musical.  She  was  afraid 
of  being  remarked  as  of  the  clerical  party,  and 
denounced  by  the  Mayor,  who  was  a  Freethinker. 


THE  ABBE    CON  STAN  TIN.  9 

That  might  have  been  injurious  to  her  interests, 
and  prevented  her  promotion. 

He  had  nearly  reached  the  end  of  the  wall  of 
the  park,  that  park  of  which  every  corner  was 
known  to  the  old  priest.  The  road  now  followed 
the  banks  of  the  Lizotte,  and  on  the  other  side 
of  the  little  stream  stretched  the  fields  belonging 
to  the  two  farms ;  then,  still  further  off,  rose  the 
dark  woods  of  La  Mionne. 

Divided!  The  domain  was  going  to  be  divided! 
The  heart  of  the  poor  ])riest  was  rent  by  this  bitter 
thought.  All  that  for  thirty  years  had  been  insep- 
arable, indivisible,  to  him.  It  was  a  little  his  own, 
his  very  own,  his  estate,  this  great  property.  He 
felt  at  home  on  the  lands  of  Longueval.  It  had 
happened  more  than  once  that  he  had  stopped  com- 
placently before  an  immense  cornfield,  plucked  an 
ear,  removed  the  husk,  and  said  to  himself  — 

"  Come  !  the  grain  is  fine,  firm,  and  sound.  This 
year  we  shall  have  a  good  harvest ! " 

And  with  a  joyous  heart  he  would  continue  his 
way  through  his  fields,  his  meadows,  his  pastures ; 
in  short,  by  every  chord  of  his  heart,  by  every  tie 
of  his  life,  by  all  his  habits,  his  memories,  he  clung 
to  this  domain  whose  last  hour  had  come. 

The  Abbe  perceived  in  the  distance  the  farm  of 
Blanche-Couronne ;  its  red-tiled  roofs  showed  dis- 
tinctly against  the  verdure  of  the  forest.  There, 
again,  the  Cure  was  at  home.  Bernard,  the  farmer 
of  the  Marquise,  was  his  friend,  and  when  the  old 


10  THE  ABBl^   CONSTANTIN. 

priest  was  delayed  in  his  visits  to  the  poor  and 
sick,  when  the  suu  was  sinking  below  the  horizon, 
and  the  Abbe  began  to  feel  a  little  fatigue  in  his 
limbs,  and  a  sensation  of  exhaustion  in  his  stom- 
ach, he  stopped  and  supped  with  Bernard,  regaled 
himself  with  a  savoury  stew  and  potatoes,  and 
emptied  his  pitcher  of  cider ;  then,  after  supper, 
the  farmer  harnessed  his  old  black  mare  to  his  cart 
and  took  the  vicar  back  to  Longueval.  The  whole 
distance  they  chatted  and  quarrelled.  The  Abbe 
reproached  the  farmer  with  not  going  to  mass,  and 
the  latter  replied  — 

"The  wife  and  the  girls  go  for  me.  You  know 
very  well,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  that  is  how  it  is  Avith 
us.  The  women  have  enough  religion  for  the  men. 
They  will  open  the  gates  of  Paradise  for  us." 

Then  he  added  maliciously,  while  giving  a  touch 
of  the  whip  to  his  old  black  mare  — 

"  If  there  is  one  ! " 

The  Cure  sprang  from  his  seat. 

''  What !  if  there  is  one  !  Of  a  certainty  there  is 
one." 

"  Then  you  will  be  there,  Monsieur  le  Cure.  You 
say  that  is  not  certain,  and  I  say  it  is.  You  will 
be  there,  you  will  be  there,  at  the  gate,  on  the 
watch  for  your  parishioners,  and  still  busy  with 
their  little  affairs ;  and  you  will  say  to  St.  Peter  — 
for  it  is  St.  Peter,  isn't  it,  who  keeps  the  keys  of 
Paradise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  St.  Peter." 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  11 

"Well,  you  will  say  to  him,  to  St.  Peter,  if  he 
wants  to  shut  the  door  in  my  face  under  the  pre- 
tence that  I  did  not  go  to  mass,  you  will  say  to 
him,  '  Bah !  let  him  in  all  the  same.  It  is  Ber- 
nard, one  of  the  farmers  of  Madame  la  Marquise, 
an  honest  man.  He  was  Common  Councilman,  and 
he  voted  for  the  maintenance  of  the  sisters  when 
they  were  going  to  be  expelled  from  the  village 
school.'  That  will  touch  St.  Peter,  who  will  an- 
swer, '  Well,  well,  you  may  pass,  Bernard,  but  it  is 
only  to  please  Monsieur  le  Cure.'  For  you  will  be 
Monsieur  le  Cure  up  there,  and  Cure  of  Longueval 
too,  for  Paradise  itself  would  be  dull  for  you  if 
you  must  give  up  being  Cure  of  Longueval." 

Cure  of  Longueval !  Yes,  all  his  life  he  had 
been  nothing  but  Cure  of  Longueval,  had  never 
dreamed  of  anything  else,  had  never  wished  to  be 
anything  else.  Three  or  four  times  excellent  liv- 
ings, with  one  or  two  curates,  had  been  offered  to 
him,  but  he  had  always  refused  them.  He  loved 
his  little  church,  his  little  village,  his- little  vicar- 
age. There  he  had  it  all  to  himself,  saw  to  every- 
thing himself;  calm,  tranquil,  he  went  and  came, 
summer  and  winter,  in  sunshine  or  storm,  in  wind 
or  rain.  His  frame  became  hardened  by  fatigue 
and  exposure,  but  his  soul  remained  gentle,  tender, 
and  pure. 

He  lived  in  his  vicarage,  which  was  only  a  larger 
labourer's  cottage  separated  from  the  church  by  the 
churchyard.     When  the  Cure  mounted  the  ladder 


12  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

to  train  his  pear  and  peach  trees,  over  the  top  of 
the  wall  he  perceived  the  graves  over  which  he  had 
said  the  last  prayer,  and  cast  the  first  spadeful  of 
earth.  Then,  while  continuing  his  work,  he  said 
in  his  heart  a  little  prayer  for  the  repose  of  those 
among  his  dead  whose  fate  disturbed  him,  and  who 
might  be  still  detained  in  purgatory.  He  had  a 
tranquil  and  childlike  faith. 

But  among  these  graves  there  Avas  one  which 
oftener  than  all  the  others  received  his  visits  and 
his  prayers.  It  was  the  tomb  of  his  old  friend 
Dr.  Reynaud,  who  had  died  in  his  arms  in  1871, 
and  under  what  circumstances  !  The  doctor  had 
been  like  Bernard;  he  never  went  to  mass  or  to 
confession ;  but  he  was  so  good,  so  charitable,  so 
compassionate  to  the  suffering.  This  was  the 
cause  of  the  Cure's  great  anxiety,  of  his  great 
solicitude.  His  friend  Reynaud,  where  was  he  ? 
Where  was  he  ?  Then  he  called  to  mind  the  noble 
life  of  the  country  doctor,  all  made  up  of  courage 
and  self-denial ;  he  recalled  his  death,  above  all  his 
death,  and  said  to  himself  — 

"  In  Paradise ;   he  can  be  nowhere  but  in  Para- 
dise.    The  good  God  may  have  sent  him  to  pur 
gatory  just  for  form's  sake  —  but  He  must  ha^/C 
delivered  him  after  five  minutes." 

All  this  passed  through  the  mind  of  the  old  mar^ 
as  he  contiiuied  his  walk  towards  Souvigny.  Ho 
was  going  to  the  town,  to  the  solicitor  of  the  Mar- 
quise, to  inquire  the  result  of  the  sale,  to  leara 


THE  ABB^   CON  STAN  TIN.  13 

wlio  were  to  be  tlie  new  masters  of  the  castle  of 
Longueval.  The  Abbe  had  still  about  a  mile  to 
walk  before  reaching  the  first  houses  of  Sovivigny, 
and  was  passing  the  park  of  Lavardens,  when  he 
heard  above  his  head  voices  calling  to  him. 

"Monsieur  le  Cure,  Monsieur  le  Cure." 

At  this  spot  adjoining  the  wall,  a  long  alley  of 
lime  trees  bordered  the  terrace,  and  the  Abbe,  rais- 
ing his  head,  perceived  Madame  de  Lavardens,  and 
her  son  Paul. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Monsieur  le  Cure?" 
asked  the  Countess. 

"  To  Souvigny,  to  the  Tribunal  to  learn  —  " 

"  Stay  here  —  Monsieur  de  Larnac  is  coming  after 
the  sale,  to  tell  me  the  result." 

The  Abbe  Constantin  joined  them  on  the  ter- 
race. 

Gertrude  de  Lannilis,  Countess  de  Lavardens, 
had  been  very  unfortunate.  At  eighteen,  she  had 
been  guilty  of  a  folly,  the  only  one  of  her  life,  but 
that  one  —  irreparable.  She  had  married  for  love, 
in  a  burst  of  enthusiasm  and  exaltation,  M.  de 
Lavardens,  one  of  the  most  fascinating  and  bril- 
liant men  of  his  time.  He  did  not  love  her,  and 
only  married  her  from  necessity;  he  had  devoured 
his  patrimonial  fortune  to  the  very  last  farthing, 
and  for  two  or  three  years  had  supported  himself 
by  various  expedients.  Mademoiselle  de  Lannilis 
knew  all  that,  and  had  no  illusions  on  these  points, 
but  she  said  to  herself  — 


14  THE  ABBE    C'ONSTANTIN. 

"1  will  love  him  so  much,  that  he  will  end  by 
loving  me." 

Hence  all  her  misfortunes.  Her  existence  might 
have  been  tolerable,  if  she  had  not  loved  her  hus- 
band so  much,  but  she  loved  him  too  much.  She 
had  only  succeeded  in  wearying  him  by  her  impor- 
tunities and  tenderness.  He  returned  to  his  former 
life,  which  liad  been  most  irregular.  Fifteen  years 
had  passed  thus,  in  a  long  martyrdom,  supported 
by  Madame  de  Lavardens  with  all  the  appearance 
of  passive  resignation.  Nothing  ever  could  dis- 
tract her  from,  or  cure  her  of,  the  love  which  was 
destroying  her. 

M.  de  Lavardens  died  in  1869,  he  left  a  son  four- 
teen years  of  age,  in  whom  were  already  visible  all 
the  defects  and  all  the  good  qualities  of  his  father. 
Without  being  seriously  affected,  the  fortune  of 
Madame  de  Lavardens  was  slightly  compromised, 
slightly  diminished.  Madame  de  Lavardens  sold 
her  mansion  in  Paris,  retired  to  the  country,  where 
slie  lived  with  strict  economy,  and  devoted  herself 
to  the  education  of  lier  son. 

But  here  again  grief  and  disappointment  awaited 
her.  Paul  de  Lavardens  was  intelligent,  amiable, 
and  affectionate,  but  thoroughly  rebellious  against 
any  constraint,  and  any  species  of  work.  He  drove 
to  despair  three  or  four  tutors  who  vainly  endeav- 
oured to  force  something  serious  into  his  head,  went 
up  to  the  military  College  of  Saint-Cyr,  failed  at  the 
exainination,  and  began  to  devour  in  Paris,  with  all 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  l5 

the  haste  and  folly  possible,  two  or  three  hundred 
thousand  francs. 

That  done,  he  enlisted  in  the  first  regiment  of 
the  Chasseurs  d'Afrique,  had  in  the  very  beginning 
of  his  military  career  the  good  fortune  to  make 
one  of  an  expeditionary  column,  sent  into  the  Sa- 
hara, distinguished  himself,  soon  became  quarter- 
master, and  at  the  end  of  three  years  was  about  to 
be  appointed  sub-lieutenant,  when  he  was  capti- 
vated by  a  young  person  who  played  the  "Fille 
de  Madame  Angot,"  at  the  theatre  in  Algiers. 

Paul  had  finished  his  time,  he  quitted  the  ser- 
vice, and  went  to  Paris  with  his  charmer  ..  .  .  then 
it  was  a  dancer  .  .  .  then  it  was  an  actress  .  .  . 
then  a  circus-rider.  He  tried  life  in  every  form. 
He  led  the  brilliant  and  miserable  existence  of  the 
unoccupied. 

But  it  was  only  three  or  four  months  that  he 
passed  in  Paris  each  year.  His  mother  made  him 
an  allowance  of  thirty  thousand  francs,  and  had 
declared  to  him,  that  never,  while  she  lived,  should 
he  have  another  penny  before  his  marriage.  He 
knew  his  mother,  he  knew  he  must  consider  her 
words  as  serious.  Thus,  wishing  to  make  a  good 
figure  in  Paris,  and  lead  a  merry  life,  he  spent  his 
thirty  thousand  francs  in  three  months,  and  then 
docilely  returned  to  Lavardens,  where  he  was  "  out 
at  grass."  He  spent  his  time  hunting,  fishing,  and 
riding  with  the  officers  of  the  artillery  regiment 
quartered  at  Souvigny.     The  little  provincial  mil- 


16  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

liners  and  "  grisettes  "  replaced,  without  rendering 
him  oblivious  of,  the  little  singers  and  actresses  of 
Paris.  By  searching  for  them,  one  may  still  find 
grisettes  in  country  towns,  and  Paul  de  Lavardens 
sought  assiduously. 

As  soon  as  the  Cur^  had  reached  Madame  de 
Lavardens,  she  said  — 

"Without  waiting  for  M.  de  Larnac,  I  can  tell 
you  the  names  of  the  purchasers  of  the  domain  of 
Longueval.  I  am  quite  easy  on  the  subject,  and 
have  no  doubt  of  the  success  of  our  plan.  In  order 
to  avoid  any  foolish  disputes,  we  have  agreed 
amongst  ourselves,  that  is,  between  our  neighbour 
M.  de  Larnac,  M.  Gallard,  a  great  Parisian  banker, 
and  myself.  M.  de  Larnac  will  have  la  Mionne, 
M.  Gallard  the  castle  and  Blanche-Couronne,  and  I 
—  la  Rozeraie.  I  know  you.  Monsieur  le  Cure,  you 
will  be  anxious  about  your  poor,  but  comfort  your- 
self. These  Gallards  are  rich  and  will  give  you 
plenty  of  money." 

At  this  moment  a  cloud  of  dust  appeared  on  the 
road,  from  it  emerged  a  carriage. 

"  Here  comes  M.  de  Larnac ! "  cried  Paul,  "  I 
know  his  ponies  !  " 

All  three  hiirriedly  descended  from  the  terrace, 
and  returned  to  the  castle.  They  arrived  there  just 
as  M.  de  Larnac's  carriage  drove  up  to  the  entrance. 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  Madame  de  Lavardens. 

"Well!"  replied  M.  de  Larnac,  "we  have  noth- 
ing." 


THE  abb:^  constantin.  17 

"What?  Nothing?"  cried  Madame  de  Lavar- 
dens,  very  pale  and  agitated. 

"Nothing,  nothing;  absohitely  nothing  —  the 
one  or  the  other  of  us." 

And  M.  de  Larnac,  springing  from  his  carriage, 
related  what  had  taken  place  at  the  sale  before  the 
Tribunal  of  Souvigny. 

"At  first,"  he  said,  "everything  went  upon 
wheels.  The  castle  went  to  M.  Gallard  for  six 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs.  No  competitor 
—  a  rise  of  fifty  francs  had  been  sufficient.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  was  a  little  battle  for  Blanche- 
Couronne.  The  bids  rose  from  five  hundred  thou- 
sand francs,  to  five  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
francs,  and  again  M.  GAllard  was  victorious.  An- 
other and  more  animated  battle  for  la  Rozeraie,  at 
last  it  was  knocked  down  to  you,  Madame,  for  four 
hundred  and  fifty-five  thousand  francs.  ...  I  got 
the  forest  of  la  Mionne  without  opposition  at  a  rise 
of  one  hundred  francs.  All  seemed  over,  those 
present  had  risen,  our  solicitors  were  surrounded 
with  persons  asking  the  names  of  the  purchasers. 

"M.  Brazier,  the  judge  entrusted  with  the  sale, 
desired  silence,  and  the  bailiff  of  the  court  offered 
the  four  lots  together  for  two  millions  one  hundred 
and  fifty  or  sixty  thousand  francs,  I  don't  remember 
which.  A  murmur  passed  through  the  assembly. 
'No  one  will  bid '  was  heard  on  all  sides.  But  little 
Gibert,  the  solicitor,  who  was  seated  in  the  first 
row,  and  till  then  had  given  no  sign  of  life,  rose 


18  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

and  said  calmly,  '  I  have  a  purchaser  for  the  four 
lots  together  at  two  millions  two  hundred  thousand 
francs.'  This  was  like  a  thunderbolt.  A  tremen- 
dous clamour  arose,  followed  by  a  dead  silence. 
The  hall  was  filled  with  farmers  and  labourers  from 
the  neighbourhood.  Two  million  francs  !  So  much 
money  for  the  land  threw  them  into  a  sort  of 
respectful  stupor.  However  M.  Gallard  bending 
towards  Sandrier,  the  solicitor  who  had  bid  for  him, 
whispered  something  in  his  ear.  The  struggle 
began  between  Gibert  and  Sandrier.  The  bids  rose 
to  two  million  five  hundred  thousand  francs.  M. 
Gallard  hesitated  for  a  moment  —  decided  —  con- 
tinued up  to  three  millions.  Then  he  stopped  and 
the  whole  went  to  Gibert.-'  Everyone  rushed  on 
him,  they  surrounded  —  they  crushed  him,  'The 
name,  the  name  of  the  purchaser?'  'It  is  an 
American,'  replied  Gibert,  '  Mrs.  Scott.' " 

"Mrs.  Scott!"  cried  Paul  de  Lavardens. 

"You  know  her?  "  asked  Madame  de  Lavardens. 

"Do  I  know  her?  — do  I  — not  at  all.  But  I 
was  at  a  ball  at  her  house  six  weeks  ago." 

"  At  a  ball  at  her  house !  and  you  don't  know 
her  ?     What  sort  of  a  woman  is  she  then  ?  " 

"Charming,  delightful,  ideal,  a  miracle!" 

"  And  is  there  a  Mr.  Scott  ?  " 

"Certainly,  a  tall,  fair  man.  He  was  at  his  ball, 
they  ])ointed  him  out  to  me.  He  bowed  at  random 
right  and  left.  He  was  not  much  amused,  I  will 
answer  for  it.     He  looked  at  us  as  if  he  were  think- 


THE  ABBl^  CONSTANTIN.  19 

ing,  '  Who  are  all  these  people  ?  What  are  they 
doing  at  my  house  ? '  We  went  to  see  Mrs.  Scott 
and  Miss  Percival,  her  sister.  And  certainly  it  was 
well  worth  the  trouble." 

"These  Scotts,"  said  Madame  de  Lavardens,  ad- 
dressing M.  de  Laruac,  "do  you  know  who  they 
are  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Madame,  I  know.  Mr.  Scott  is  an  Ameri- 
can, possessing  a  colossal  fortune,  who  settled  him- 
self in  Paris  last  year.  As  soon  as  their  name  was 
mentioned,  I  understood  that  the  victory  had  never 
been  doubtful.  Gallard  was  beaten  beforehand. 
The  Scotts  began  by  buying  a  house  in  Paris  for 
two  million  francs,  it  is  near  the  Pare  Monceau." 

"Yes,  Rue  Murillo,"  said  Paul,  "I  tell  you  I 
went  to  a  ball  there.     It  was  "  — 

"  Let  M.  de  Larnac  speak.  You  can  tell  us 
presently  about  the  ball  at  Mrs.  Scott's." 

"Well,  now,  imagine  my  Americans  established  in 
Paris,"  continued  M.  de  Larnac,  "and  the  showers 
of  gold  begun.  In  the  orthodox  parvenu  style  they 
amuse  themselves  with  throwing  handfuls  of  gold 
out  of  window.  Their  great  wealth  is  quite  recent, 
they  say;  ten  years  ago  Mrs.  Scott  begged  in  the 
streets  of  New  York." 

"  Begged ! " 

"The}^  say  so.  Then  she  married  this  Scott,  the 
son  of  a  New  York  banker,  and  all  at  once  a  suc- 
cessful lawsuit  put  into  their  hands  not  millions, 
but  tens  of  millions.     Somewhere  in  America  they 


20  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

have  a  silver  mine,  but  a  genuine  mine,  a  real  mine 
—  a  mine  with  silver  in  it.  Ah !  we  shall  see  what 
luxury  will  reign  at  Longueval !  We  shall  all  look 
like  paupers  beside  them !  It  is  said  that  they 
have  one  hundred  thousand  francs  a  day  to  spend." 

"Such  are  our  neighbours!"  cried  Madame  de 
Lavardens.  "  An  adventuress  !  and  that  is  the 
least  of  it  —  a  heretic,  Monsieur  I'Abbe,  a  Protes- 
tant ! " 

A  heretic !  a  Protestant !  Poor  Cure ;  it  was 
indeed  that  of  which  he  had  immediately  thought 
on  hearing  the  words,  "An  American,  Mrs.  Scott." 
The  new  chatelaine  of  Longueval  would  not  go  to 
mass.  What  did  it  matter  to  him  that  she  had 
been  a  beggar  ?  What  did  it  matter  to  him  if  she 
possessed  tens  and  tens  of  millions  ?  She  was  not 
a  Catholic.  He  would  never  again  baptise  children 
born  at  Longueval,  and  the  chapel  in  the  castle, 
where  he  had  so  often  said  mass,  would  be  trans- 
formed into  a  Protestant  oratory,  which  would 
echo  only  the  frigid  utterances  of  a  Calvinistic  or 
Lutheran  pastor. 

Everyone  was  distressed,  disappointed,  over- 
whelmed, but  in  the  midst  of  the  general  depres- 
sion Paul  stood  radiant. 

"  A  charming  heretic  at  all  events,"  said  he,  "  or 
rather  two  charming  heretics.  You  should  see  the 
two  sisters  on  horseback  in  the  P)Ois,  with  two 
little  grooms  behind  them  not  higher  than  that." 

"Come,  Paul,  tell  us  all  you  know.     Describe 


THE  ABBIS   CONSTANTIN.  21 

the  ball  of  which  you  speak.  How  did  you  happen 
to  go  to  a  ball  at  these  Americans'  ?  " 

"By  the  greatest  chance.  My  aunt  Valentine 
was  at  home  that  night ;  I  looked  in  about  ten 
o'clock.  Well,  aunt  Valentine's  Wednesdays  are 
not  exactly  scenes  of  wild  enjoyment,  give  you  my 
word !  I  had  been  there  about  twenty  minutes 
when  I  caught  sight  of  Eoger  de  Puymartin  escap- 
ing furtively.  I  caught  him  in  the  hall;  and 
said  — 

" '  We  will  go  home  together.' 

" '  Oh  !  I  am  not  going  home.* 

" '  Where  are  you  going  ? ' 

" '  To  the  ball.' 

" '  Where  ? ' 

" '  At  Mrs.  Scott's.     Will  you  come  ? ' 

" '  But  I  have  not  been  invited.'  . 

" '  Neither  have  I.' 

"  '  What !  not  invited  ?  ' 

" '  1^0.     I  am  going  with  one  of  my  friends.' 

" '  And  does  your  friend  know  them  ? ' 

"'Scarcely;  but  enough  to  introduce  us.  Come 
along ;  you  will  see  Mrs.  Scott.' 

" '  Oh !  I  have  seen  her,  on  horseback  in  the  Bois.' 

"'But  she  does  not  wear  a  low  gown  on  horse- 
back; you  have  not  seen  her  shoulders,  and  they 
are  shoulders  which  ought  to  be  seen.  There  is 
nothing  better  in  Paris  at  this  moment.' 

"And  I  went  to  the  ball,  and  I  saw  Mrs.  Scott's 
red  hair,  and  I  saw  Mrs.  Scott's  white  shoulders, 


22  THE  ABBS   CONSTANTIN. 

and  I  hope  to  see  them  again  when  there  are  balls 
at  Longueval." 

"  Paul ! "  said  Madame  de  Lavardens,  pointing  to 
the  Abbe. 

"  Oh !  Monsieur  1' Abbe,  I  beg  a  thousand  par- 
dons.    Have  I  said  anything  ?     It  seems  to  me  —  " 

The  poor  old  priest  had  heard  nothing ;  his 
thoughts  were  elsewhere.  Already  he  saw,  in  the 
village  streets,  the  Protestant  pastor  from  the  castle 
stopping  before  each  house,  and  slipping  under  the 
doors  little  evangelical  pamphlets. 

Continuing  his  account,  Paul  launched  into  an 
enthusiastic  description  of  the  mansion,  which  was 
a  marvel  — 

"Of  bad  taste  and  ostentation,"  interrupted 
Madame  de  Lavardens. 

"  Not  at  all,  mother,  not  at  all ;  nothing  star- 
tling, nothing  loud.  It  is  admirably  furnished, 
everything  done  with  elegance  and  originality.  An 
incomparable  conservatory,  flooded  with  electric 
light;  the  buffet  was  placed  in  the  conservatory 
under  a  vine  laden  with  grapes,  which  one  could 
gather  by  handfuls,  and  in  the  month  of  April ! 
The  accessories  of  the  cotillon  cost,  it  appears, 
more  than  forty  thousand  francs.  Ornaments,  bon- 
bonnieres,  delicious  trifles,  and  we  were  begged  to 
accept  them.  For  my  part  I  took  nothing,  but 
there  were  many  who  made  no  scruple.  That 
evening  Puymartin  told  me  Mrs.  Scott's  history, 
but  it  was  not  at  all  like  M.  de  Larnac's  story. 


THE  abbE  constantin.  23 

Roger  said  that,  when  quite  little,  Mrs.  Scott  had 
been  stolen  from  her  family  by  some  acrobats,  and 
that  her  father  had  found  her  in  a  travelling  circus, 
riding  on  bare-backed  horses  and  jumping  through 
paper  hoops." 

"A  circus-rider!"  cried  Madame  de  Lavardens, 
"  I  should  have  preferred  the  beggar." 

''And  while  Roger  was  telling  me  this  Family 
Herald  romance,  I  saw  approaching  from  the  end 
of  a  gallery  a  wonderful  cloud  of  lace  and  satin ;  it 
surrounded,  this  rider  from  a  wandering  circus,  and 
I  admired  those  shoulders,  those  dazzling  shoul- 
ders, on  which  undulated  a  necklace  of  diamonds 
as  big  as  the  stopper  of  a  decanter.  They  say  that 
the  Minister  of  Finance  had  sold  secretly  to  Mrs. 
Scott  half  the  crown  diamonds,  and  that  that  was 
how,  the  month  before,  he  had  been  able  to  show  a 
surplus  of  fifteen  hundred  thousand  francs  in  the 
budget.  Add  to  all  this  that  the  lady  had  a  re- 
markably good  air,  and  that  the  little  acrobat 
seemed  perfectly  at  home  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
splendour." 

Pavil  was  going  so  far  that  his  mother  was  obliged 
to  stop  him.  Before  M.  de  Larnac,  who  was  exces- 
sively annoyed  and  disappointed,  he  showed  too 
plainly  his  delight  at  the  prospect  of  having  this 
marvellous  American  for  a  near  neighbour. 

The  Abbe  Constantin  was  preparing  to  return  to 
Longueval,  but  Paul,  seeing  him  ready  to  start, 
said  — 


24  THE  ABBE   CON  STAN  TIN. 

"No!  no!  Monsieur  le  Cure,  you  must  not  tliink 
of  walking  back  to  Longueval  in  the  heat  of  the 
day.  Allow  me  to  drive  you  home.  I  am  really 
grieved  to  see  you  so  cast  down,  and  will  try  my 
best  to  amuse  you.  Oh !  if  you  were  ten  times  a 
saint  I  would  make  you  laugh  at  my  stories." 

And  half-an-hour  after,  the  two  —  the  Cure  and 
Paul  —  drove  side  by  side  in  the  direction  of  the 
village.  Paul  talked,  talked,  talked.  His  mother 
was  not  there  to  check  or  moderate  his  transports, 
and  his  joy  was  overflowing. 

"Now,  look  here.  Monsieur  I'Abbe,  you  are  wrong 
to  take  things  in  this  tragic  manner.  Stay,  look  at 
my  little  mare,  how  well  she  trots  !  what  good 
action  she  has  !  You  have  not  seen  her  before  ? 
What  do  you  think  I  paid  for  her?  Four  hundred 
francs.  I  discovered  her  a  fortnight  ago,  between 
the  shafts  of  a  market  gardener's  cart.  She  is  a 
treasure.  I  assure  you  she  can  do  sixteen  miles  an 
hour,  and  keep  one's  hands  full  all  the  time.  Just 
see  how  she  pulls.  Come,  tot,  tot,  tot !  You  are 
not  in  a  hurry.  Monsieur  I'Abbe,  I  hope.  Let  us 
return  through  the  wood ;  the  fresh  air  will  do  you 
good.  Oh  !  Monsieur  I'Abbe,  if  you  only  knew 
what  a  regard  I  have  for  you,  and  respect  too.  I 
did  not  talk  too  much  nonsense  before  you  just  now, 
did  I  ?     I  should  be  so  sorry  —  " 

"No,  ray  child,  I  heard  nothing." 

"Well,  we  will  take  the  longest  way  round." 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  25 

After  having  turned  to  the  left  in  the  wood,  Paul 
resumed  his  communications. 

"I  was  saying,  Monsieur  I'Abbe,"  he  went  on, 
"that  you  are  wrong  to  take  things  so  seriously. 
Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  think  ?  This  is  a  very- 
fortunate  affair." 

"■  Very  fortunate  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  fortunate.  I  would  rather  see  the 
Scotts  at  Longueval  than  the  Gallards.  Did  you 
not  hear  Monsieur  de  Larnac  reproach  these  Ameri- 
cans with  spending  their  money  foolishly.  It'  is 
never  foolish  to  spend  money.  The  folly  lies  in 
keeping  it.  Your  poor  —  for  I  am  perfectly  sure 
that  it  is  your  poor  of  whom  you  are  thinking  — 
your  poor  have  made  a  good  thing  of  it  to-day. 
That  is  my  opinion.  The  religion  ?  Well,  they 
will  not  go  to  mass,  and  that  will  be  a  grief  to  you, 
that  is  only  natural ;  but  they  will  send  you  money, 
plenty  of  money,  and  you  will  take  it,  and  you  will 
be  quite  right  in  doing  so.  You  will  see  that  you 
will  not  say  no.  There  Avill  be  gold  raining  over 
the  whole  place ;  a  movement,  a  bustle,  carriages 
with  four  horses,  postilions,  powdered  footmen, 
paper  chases,  hunting  parties,  balls,  fire-works,  and 
here  in  this  very  spot  I  shall  perhaps  find  Paris 
again  before  long.  I  shall  see  once  more  the  two 
riders,  and  the  two  little  grooms  of  whom  I  was 
speaking  just  now.  If  you  only  knew  how  well 
those  two  sisters  look  on  horseback  !  One  morning 
I  went  right  round  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  behind 


26  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

them  ;  I  fancy  I  can  see  tliem  still.  They  had  high 
hats,  and  little  black  veils  drawn  very  tightly  over 
their  faces,  and  long  riding  habits  made  in  the  prin- 
cess form,  with  a  single  seam  right  down  the  back, 
and  a  woman  must  be  awfully  well  made  to  wear  a 
riding  habit  like  that,  because  you  see,  Monsieur 
I'Abbe,  with  a  habit  of  that  cut  there  is  no  decep- 
tion possible." 

For  some  moments  the  Cure  had  not  been  listen- 
ing to  Paul's  discourse.  They  had  entered  a  long, 
perfectly  straight  avenue,  and  at  the  end  of  this 
avenue  the  Cure  saw  a  horseman  galloping  along. 

"Look,"  said  the  Cure  to  Paul,  "your  eyes  are 
better  than  mine.     Is  not  that  Jean  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  Jean.     I  know  his  grey  mare." 

Paul  loved  horses,  and  before  looking  at  the  rider 
looked  at  the  horse.  It  was  indeed  J^pan,  who,  when 
he  saw  in  the  distance  the  Cure  and  Paul  de  La- 
vardens,  waved  in  the  air  his  kepi,  adorned  with 
two  golden  stripes.  Jean  was  lieutenant  in  the 
regiment  of  artillery  quartered  at  Souvigny. 

Some  moments  after  he  stopped  by  the  little 
carriage,  and,  addressing  the  Cure,  said  — 

"  I  have  just  been  to  your  house,  mon  parrain. 
Pauline  told  me  that  you  had  gone  to  Souvigny 
about  the  sale.    Well,  who  has  bought  the  castle  ?  " 

"  An  American,  Mrs.  Scott." 

"  And  Blanche-Couronne  ?  " 

"The  same,  Mrs.  Scott." 

"  And  la  Rozeraie  ?  " 


THE  ABB^  CONSTANTIN.  27 

"  Mrs.  Scott  again." 

"  And  the  forest  ?  Mrs.  Scott  again  ?  " 

"  You  have  said  it,"  replied  Paul,  "  and  I  know 
Mrs.  Scott,  and  I  can  promise  you  that  there  will 
be  something  going  on  at  Longueval.  I  will  intro- 
duce you.  Only  it  is  distressing  to  Monsieur  I'Abbe 
because  she  is  an  American  —  a  Protestant." 

"  Ah !  that  is  true,"  said  Jean,  sympathisingly. 
"  However,  we  will  talk  about  it  to-morrow.  I  am 
going  to  dine  with  you,  godfather ;  I  have  warned 
Pauline  of  my  visit ;  no  time  to  stop  to-day.  I  am 
on  duty,  and  must  be  in  quarters  at  three  o'clock." 

"  Stables  ?  "  asked  Paul. 

"Yes.    Good-bye,  Paul.    To-morrow,  godfather." 

The  lieutenant  galloped  away.  Paul  de  Lavar- 
dens  gave  his  little  horse  her  head. 

"What  a  capital  fellow  Jean  is  ! "  said  Paul. 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed." 

"  There  is  no  one  on  earth  better  than  Jean." 

"No,  no  one." 

The  Cure  turned  round  to  take  another  look  at 
Jean,  who  was  almost  lost  in  the  depths  of  the 
forest. 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  is  you.  Monsieur  le  Cure." 

"No,  not  me  !  not  me  ! " 

"Well,  Monsieur  I'Abbe,  shall  I  tell  you  what  I 
think  ?  —  I  think  there  is  no  one  better  than  you 
two  —  you  and  Jean.  That  is  the  truth,  if  I  must 
tell  you.  Oh !  what  a  splendid  place  for  a  trot ! 
I  shall  let  Niniche  go ;  I  call  her  Niniche." 


28 


THE  ABB£  CONSTANTIN. 


With  the  p«int  of  his  whip  Paul  caressed  the 
flank  of  Niniche,  who  started  off  at  full  speed,  and 
Paul,  delighted,  cried  — 

"Just  look  at  her  action,  Monsieur  I'Abbe !  Just 
look  at  her  action !  So  regular  — just  like  clock 
work.     Lean  over  and  look." 

To  please  Paul  de  Lavardens  the  Abbe  Constan- 
tin  did  lean  over  and  look  at  Niniche's  action,  but 
the  old  priest's  thoughts  were  far  away. 


:'^-^' 

m^          *  ^  X  ^L^^SWr* 

CHAPTER   II. 


This  sub-lieutenant  of  artillery  was  called  Jean 
Reynaud.  He  was  the  son  of  a  country  doctor  who 
slept  in  the  churchyard  of  Longueval. 

In  1846,  when  the  Abbe  Constantin  took  posses- 
sion of  his  little  living,  the  grandfather  of  Jean 
was  residing  in  a  pleasant  cottage  on  the  road  to 
Souvigny,  between  the  castles  of  Longueval  and 
Lavardens. 

Marcel,  the  son  of  that  Dr.  Reynaud,  was  finish- 
ing his  medical  studies  in  Paris.  He  possessed 
great  industry,  and  an  elevation  of  sentiment  and 
mind  extremely  rare.  He  passed  his  examinations 
with  great  distinction,  and  had  decided  to  fix  his 
abode  in  Paris  and  tempt  fortune  there,  and  every- 
thing seemed  to  promise  him  the  most  prosperous 

29 


30  THE  ABB^  CONSTANTIN. 

and  brilliant  career,  when  in  1852  he  received  the 
news  of  his  father's  death ;  he  had  been  struck 
down  by  a  fit  of  apoplexy.  Marcel  hurried  to 
Longueval  overwhelmed  with  grief,  for  he  adored 
his  father.  He  spent  a  month  with  his  mother, 
and  then  spoke  of  the  necessity  of  returning  to 
Paris. 

"That  is  true,"  said  his  mother;  "you  must  go." 

"  What !  I  must  go  !  We  must  go,  you  mean. 
Do  you  think  that  I  would  leave  you  here  alone  ? 
1  shall  take  you  with  me." 

To  live  in  Paris ;  to  leave  the  place  where  I  was 
born,  where  your  father  lived,  where  he  died  ?  I 
could  never  do  it,  my  child,  never  !  Go  alone  your 
life,  your  future,  are  there.  I  know  you ;  I  know 
that  you  will  never  forget  me,  that  you  will  come 
and  see  me  often,  very  often." 

"No,  mother,"  he  answered  ;  "  I  will  stay  here." 

And  he  stayed. 

His  hopes,  his  ambitions,  all  in  one  moment 
vanished.  He  saw  only  one  thing  —  duty  —  the 
duty  of  not  abandoning  his  aged  mother.  In  duty, 
simply  accepted  and  simply  discharged,  he  found 
happiness  After  all  it  is  only  thus  that  one  does 
find  happiness. 

Marcel  bowed  with  courage  and  good  grace  to 
his  new  existence.  He  continued  his  father's  life, 
entering  the  groove  at  the  very  spot  where  he  had 
left  it.  He  devoted  himself  without  regret  to  the 
obscure  career  of  a  country  doctor.     His  father  had 


TEE  ABB^  CONSTANTIN.  31 

left  him  a  little  land  and  a  little  money  ;  lie  lived 
in  tlie  most  simple  manner  possible,  and  one  half 
of  his  life  belonged  to  the  poor,  from  whom  he 
would  never  receive  a  penny. 

This  was  his  only  luxury. 

He  found  in  his  way  a  young  girl,  charming, 
penniless,  and  alone  in  the  world.  He  married  her. 
This  was  in  1855,  and  the  following  year  brought 
to  Dr.  Eeynaud  a  great  sorrow  and  a  great  joy  — 
the  death  of  his  old  mother  and  the  birth  of  his  son 
Jean. 

At  an  interval  of  six  weeks,  the  Abbe  Constautin 
recited  the  prayers  for  the  dead  over  the  grave  of 
the  grandmother,  and  was  present  in  the  position 
of  godfather  at  the  baptism  of  the  grandson. 

In  consequence  of  constantly  meeting  at  the  bed- 
side of  the  suffering  and  dying,  the  priest  and  the 
doctor  had  been  strongly  attracted  to  each  other. 
They  instinctively  felt  that  they  belonged  to  the 
same  family,  the  same  race  —  the  race  of  the  tender, 
the  just,  and  the  benevolent. 

Year  followed  year  —  calm,  peaceful,  fully  oc- 
cupied in  labour  and  duty.  Jean  was  no  longer  an 
infant.  His  father  gave  him  his  first  lessons  in 
reading  and  writing,  the  priest  his  first  lessons  in 
Latin.  Jean  was  intelligent  and  industrious.  He 
made  so  much  progress  that  the  two  professors  — 
particularly  the  Cure  —  found  themselves  at  the 
end  of  a  few  years  rather  cast  into  the  shade  by 
their  pupil.    It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  Count- 


32  THE  abb:^  constantin. 

ess,  after  the  death  of  her  husband,  came  to  settle 
at  Lavardens.  She  brought  with  her  a  tutor  for 
her  son  Paul,  a  very  nice,  but  very  lazy  little  fel- 
low. The  two  children  were  of  the  same  age ;  they 
had  known  each  other  from  their  earliest  years. 

Madame  de  Lavardens  had  a  great  regard  for 
Dr.  Reynaud,  and  one  day  she  made  him  the  follow- 
ing proposal. 

"  Send  Jean  to  me  every  morning,"  said  she  ;  "  I 
will  send  him  home  in  the  evening.  Paul's  tutor 
is  a  very  accomplished  man  ;  he  will  make  the  chil- 
dren work  together.  It  will  be  rendering  me  a  real 
service.     Jean  will  set  Paul  a  good  example." 

Things  were  thus  arranged,  and  the  little  bour- 
geois set  the  little  nobleman  a  most  excellent 
example  of  industry  and  application,  but  this  ex- 
cellent example  was  not  followed. 

The  war  broke  out.  On  November  14th,  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  "  mobiles  "  of  Souvigny 
assembled  in  the  great  square  of  the  town ;  their 
chaplain  was  the  Abbe  Constantin,  their  surgeon- 
major  ])r.  Reynaud.  The  same  idea  had  come  at 
the  same  moment  to  both ;  the  priest  was  sixty-two, 
the  doctor  fifty. 

When  they  started,  the  battalion  followed  the 
road  which  led  through  Longueval,  and  which 
passed  before  the  doctor's  house.  Madame  Rey- 
naud and  Jean  were  waiting  by  the  roadside. 

The  child  threw  himself  into  his  father's  arms. 

"  Take  me  too,  papa !  take  me  too !  " 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  3S 

Madame  Keynaucl  wept.  The  doctor  held  them 
both  in  a  long  embrace;  then  he  continued  his  way. 

A  hundred  steps  farther  the  road  made  a  sharp 
curve.  The  doctor  turned,  cast  one  long  look  at 
his  wife  and  child  —  the  last ;  he  was  never  to  see 
them  again. 

On  January  8th,  1871,  the  mobiles  of  Souvigny 
attacked  the  village  of  Villersexel  occupied  by  the 
Prussians,  Avho  had  barricaded  themselves.  The 
firing  began.  A  mobile  who  marched  in  the  front 
rank  received  a  ball  in  the  chest  and  fell.  There 
was  a  short  moment  of  trouble  and  hesitation. 

"  Forward  !  forward  I  "  shouted  the  officers. 

The  men  passed  over  the  body  of  their  comrade, 
and  under  a  hail  of  bullets  entered  the  town. 

Dr.  Keynaud  and  the  Abbe  Constantin  marched 
with  the  troops ;  they  stopped  by  the  wounded 
man ;  the  blood  was  rusliing  in  floods  from  his 
mouth. 

"There  is  nothing  to  be  done."  said  the  doctor. 
"He  is  dying;  he  belongs  to  you." 

The  priest  knelt  down  by  the  dying  man,  and  the 
doctor  rose  to  go  towards  the  village.  He  had  not 
taken  ten  steps  when  he  stopped,  beat  the  air  with 
both  hands,  and  fell  all  at  once  to  the  ground.  The 
priest  ran  to  him ;  he  was  dead  — killed  on  the  spot 
by  a  bullet  through  the  temples.  That  evening  the 
village  was  ours,  and  the  next  day  they  placed  in 
the  cemetery  of  Villersexel  the  body  of  Dr.  Key- 
naud. 


^4  THE  ABBlS   CONSTANTIN. 

Two  months  later  the  Abbe  Constantiu  took 
back  to  Longueval  the  coffin  of  his  friend,  and 
behind  the  coffin  when  it  was  carried  from  the 
church  walked  an  orphan.  Jean  had  also  lost  his 
mother.  At  the  neAVS  of  her  husband's  death 
Madame  Reynaud  had  remained  for  twenty-four 
hours  petrified,  crushed,  without  a  word  or  a  tear ; 
then  fever  had  seized  her,  then  delirium,  and  after 
a  fortnight,  death. 

Jean  was  alone  in  the  world ;  he  was  fourteen 
years  old.  Of  that  family,  where  for  more  than  a 
century  all  had  been  good  and  honest,  there  re- 
mained only  a  child  kneeling  beside  a  grave ;  but 
he,  too,  promised  to  be  what  his  father  and  his 
grandfather  before  him  had  been  —  good,  and 
honest,  and  true. 

There  are  families  like  that  in  France,  and  many 
of  them,  more  than  one  ventures  to  say.  Our  poor 
country  is  in  many  respects  cruelly  calumniated  by 
certain  novelists,  who  draw  exaggerated  and  dis- 
torted pictures  of  it.  It  is  true  the  history  of  good 
people  is  often  monotonous  or  painful.  This  story 
is  a  proof  of  it. 

The  grief  of  Jean  was  the  grief  of  a  man.  He 
remained  long  sad  and  long  silent.  The  evening 
of  his  father's  funeral  the  Abbe  Constantin  took 
him  home  to  the  vicarage.  The  day  had  been  rainy 
and  cold.  Jean  was  sitting  by  the  fireside ;  the 
priest  was  reading  his  breviary  opposite  him.  Old 
Pauline  came  and  went,  arranging  her  affairs. 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIK.  35 

An  hour  passed  without  a  word,  when  Jean, 
raising  his  head,  said  — 

"Godfather,  did  my  father  leave  me  any  money  ?  " 

This  question  was  so  extraordinary  that  the  old 
priest,  stupefied,  could  scarcely  believe  that  he 
heard  «aright. 

"You  ask  if  your  father  —  " 

"I  asked  if  my  father  left  me  some  money?" 

"  Yes ;  he  must  have  left  you  some." 

"A  good  deal,  don't  you  think?  I  have  often 
heard  peo})le  say  that  my  father  was  rich.  Tell 
me  about  how  much  he  has  left  me  ! " 

"But  I  don't  know.     You  ask  —  " 

The  poor  old  man  felt  his  heart  rent  in  twain. 
Such  a  question  at  such  a  moment !  Yet  he  thought 
he  knew  the  boy's  heart,  and  in  that  heart  there 
should  not  be  room  for  such  thoughts. 

"Pray,  dear  godfather,  tell  me,"  continued  Jean, 
gently.  "I  will  explain  to  you  afterwards  why  I 
ask  that." 

"Well,  they  say  your  father  had  two  or  three 
hundred  thousand  francs." 

"And  is  that  much?" 

"Yes,  it  is  a  great  deal." 

"And  it  is  all  mine  ?  " 

"Yes,  it  is  all  yours." 

"Oh!  I  am  glad,  because,  you  know,  the  day 
that  my  father  was  killed  in  the  war,  the  Prussians 
killed  at  the  same  time  the  son  of  a  poor  woman 
in  Longueval  —  old  Cle'mence,  you  know;  and  they 


36  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

killed  too,  the  brother  of  Rosalie,  Avith  whom  I 
used  to  play  when  I  was  quite  little.  Well,  since 
I  am  rich  and  they  are  poor,  I  will  divide  with 
Clemence  and  Rosalie  the  money  my  father  has 
left  me." 

On  hearing  these  words  the  Cure  rose,  took  Jean 
by  both  hands,  and  drew  him  into  his  arms.  The 
white  head  rested  on  the  fair  one.  Two  large  tears 
escaped  from  the  eyes  of  the  old  priest,  rolled 
slowly  down  his  cheeks,  and  were  lost  in  the  fur- 
rows of  his  face. 

However,  the  Cure  was  obliged  to  explain  to 
Jean  that,  though  he  was  his  father's  heir,  he  had 
not  the  right  of  disposing  of  his  heritage  as  he 
would.  There  would  be  a  family  council,  and  a 
guardian  would  be  appointed. 

"You,  no  doubt,  godfather?" 

"  No,  not  I,  my  child ;  a  priest  has  not  the  right 
of  exercising  the  functions  of  a  guardian.  They 
will,  I  think,  choose  M.  Lenient,  the  lawyer  in 
Souvigny,  who  was  one  of  your  father's  best 
friends.  You  can  speak  to  him  and  tell  him  what 
you  wish." 

M.  Lenient  was  eventually  appointed  guardian, 
and  Jean  urged  his  wishes  so  eagerly  and  touch- 
ingly  that  the  lawyer  consented  to  deduct  from 
the  income  a  sum  of  two  thousand  four  hundred 
francs,  which,  every  year  till  Jean  came  of  age,  was 
divided  between  old  Clemence  and  little  Rosalie. 

Under  these  circumstances   IMadame  de  Lavar- 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  37 

dens  was  perfect.  She  went  to  the  Abbe  and 
said  — 

"  Give  Jean  to  me,  give  him  to  me  entirely  till  he 
has  finished  his  studies.  I  will  bring  him  back  to 
you  every  year  during  the  holidays.  It  is  not  I  who 
am  rendering  you  a  service ;  it  is  a  service  which 
I  ask  of  you.  I  cannot  imagine  any  greater  good 
fortune  for  my  son  than  to  have  Jean  for  a  com- 
panion. I  must  resign  myself  to  leaving  Lavardens 
for  a  time.  Paul  is  bent  upon  being  a  soldier  and 
going  up  to  Saint-Cyr.  It  is  only  in  Paris  that  I 
can  obtain  the  necessary  masters.  I  will  take  the 
two  children  there  ;  they  will  study  together  under 
my  own  eyes  like  brothers,  and  I  will  make  no  dif- 
ference between  them ;  of  that  you  may  be  sure." 

It  was  difficult  to  refuse  such  an  offer.  The  old 
Cure  would  have  dearly  liked  to  keep  Jean  with 
him,  and  his  heart  was  torn  at  the  thought  of  this 
separation,  but  what  was  for  the  child's  real  inter- 
est ?  That  was  the  only  question  to  be  considered ; 
the  rest  was  nothing.     They  summoned  Jean. 

"  My  child,"  said  Madame  de  Lavardens  to  him, 
"will  you  come  and  live  with  Paul  and  me  for 
some  years  ?     I  will  take  you  both  to  Paris." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Madame,  but  I  should  have 
liked  so  much  to  stay  here." 

He  looked  at  the  Cure,  who  turned  away  his  eyes. 

"  Why  must  we  go  ?  "  he  continued.  "  Why  must 
you  take  Paul  and  me  away  ?  " 

*'  Because  it  is  only  in  Paris  that  you  can  have 


38  THE  ABBIS   CONSTANTLN. 

all  the  advantages  necessary  to  complete  your 
studies.  Paul  will  prepare  for  his  examination  at 
Saint-Cyr.     You  know  he  wants  to  be  a  soldier." 

"  So  do  I,  Madame.     I  wish  to  be  one,  too." 

"  You  a  soldier ! "  exclaimed  the  Cure ;  "  but  you 
know  that  was  not  at  all  your  father's  idea.  In  my 
presence  he  has  often  spoken  of  your  future,  your 
career.  You  were  to  be  a  doctor,  and  like  him 
doctor  at  Longueval,  and  like  him  devote  yourself 
to  the  sick  and  jDOor.  Jean,  my  child,  do  you 
remember  ?  " 

"I  remember;  I  remember." 

"Well  then,  Jean,  you  must  do  as  your  father 
wished ;  it  is  your  duty,  Jean ;  it  is  your  duty. 
You  must  go  to  Paris.  You  would  like  to  stay 
here,  I  understand  that  well,  and  I  should  like  it 
too  ;  but  it  cannot  be.  You  must  go  to  Paris,  and 
work,  work  hard.  Not  that  I  am  anxious  about 
that ;  you  are  your  father's  true  son.  You  will  be 
an  honest  and  a  laborious  man.  One  cannot  well 
be  the  one  without  the  other.  And  some  day,  in 
your  father's  house,  in  the  place  where  he  has  done 
so  much  good,  the  poor  people  of  the  country  round 
will  find  another  Dr.  Keynaud,  to  whom  they  may 
look  for  help.  And  I  —  if  by  chance  I  am  still  in 
this  world  —  when  that  day  comes  I  shall  be  so 
happy !  But  I  am  wrong  to  speak  of  myself ;  I 
ought  not,  I  do  not  count.  It  is  of  your  father  that 
you  must  think.  I  repeat  it,  Jean,  it  was  his  dear- 
est wish.     You  cannot  have  forgotten  it." 


THE  abbE  constantin.  39 

"  No,  I  have  not  forgotten ;  but  if  my  father  sees 
•me,  and  hears  me,  I  am  certain  that  he  understands 
and  forgives  me,  for  it  is  on  his  account." 

"  On  his  account  ?  " 

"  Yes.  When  I  heard  that  he  was  dead,  and  when 
I  heard  how  he  died,  all  at  once,  without  any  need 
of  reflection,  I  said  to  myself  that  I  would  be  a 
soldier,  and  I  will  be  a  soldier !  Godfather,  and 
you,  Madame,  I  beg  you  not  to  prevent  me." 

The  child  burst  into  tears  —  a  perfect  flood  of 
passionate  tears.  The  Countess  and  the  Abbe 
soothed  him  with  gentle  words. 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  it  is  settled,"  they  said ;  "  any- 
thing that  you  wish,  all  that  you  wish." 

Both  had  the  same  thought  —  leave  it  to  time ; 
Jean  is  only  a  child ;  he  will  change  his  mind. 

In  this  both  were  mistaken ;  Jean  did  not  change 
his  mind.  In  the  month  of  September,  1876,  Paul 
de  Lavardens  was  rejected  at  Saint-Cyr,  and  Jean 
Reynaud  passed  eleventh  at  the  Ecole  Poly  technique. 
T'lz  day  when  the  list  of  the  candidates  who  had 
passed  was  published  he  wrote  to  the  Abbe  Con- 
stantin :  — 

"I  have  passed,  and  passed  too  well,  for  I  want 
to  go  into  the  army,  and  not  the  Civil  Service ; 
however,  if  I  keep  my  place  in  the  school,  that  will 
be  the  business  of  one  of  my  comrades ;  he  will 
have  my  chance." 

It  happened  so  in  the  end.  Jean  Reynaud  did 
better  than  keep  his  place;   the  pass  list  showed 


40  THE  ABBJS  constantin. 

his  name  seventh,  but  instead  of  entering  "TEcole 
des  Fonts  et  Chaussees,''  he  entered  the  military 
college  of  Fontainebleavi  in  1878. 

He  was  then  just  twenty-one ;  he  was  of  age, 
master  of  his  fortune,  and  the  first  act  of  the  new 
administration  was  a  great,  a  very  great  piece  of 
extravagance.  He  bought  for  old  Clemeuce  and 
little  Kosalie  two  shares  in  Government  stock  of 
fifteen  hundred  francs  each.  That  cost  him  70,000 
francs,  almost  the  sum  that  Paul  de  Lavardens,  in 
his  first  year  of  liberty  in  Paris,  spent  for  Made- 
moiselle Lise  Bruyere,  of  the  Palais  Royal  Theatre. 

Two  years  later  Jean  passed  first  at  the  exami- 
nation, and  left  Fontainebleau  with  the  right  of 
choosing  among  the  vacant  places.  There  was  one 
in  the  regiment  quartered  at  Souvigny,  and  Sou- 
vigny  was  three  miles  from  Longueval.  Jean 
asked  for  this,  and  obtained  it. 

Thus  Jean  Reynaud,  lieutenant  in  the  ninth 
regiment  of  artillery,  came  in  the  month  of  Octo- 
ber, 1880,  to  take  possession  of  the  house  that  had 
been  his  father's;  thus  he  found  himself  once  more 
in  the  place  where  his  childhood  had  passed,  and 
where  everyone  had  kept  green  the  memory  of  the 
life  and  death  of  his  father ;  thus  the  Abbe  Con- 
stantin was  not  denied  the  happiness  of  once  again 
having  near  him  the  son  of  his  old  friend,  and,  if 
the  truth  must  be  told,  he  no  longer  wished  that 
Jean  had  become  a  doctor. 

When  the  old  Cure  left  his  church  after  saying 


THE  ABBE   COJSl STAN  TIN.  41 

mass,  when  he  saw  coming  along  the  road  a  great 
cloud  of  dust,  when  he  felt  the  earth  tremble  under 
the  rumbling  canon,  he  \vould  stop,  and  like  a  child 
amuse  himself  with  seeing  the  regiment  pass,  but 
to  him  the  regiment  was  —  Jean.  It  was  this 
robust  and  manly  cavalier,  in  whose  face,  as  in  an 
open  book,  one  read  uprightness,  courage,  and 
goodness. 

The  moment  Jean  i)erceived  the  Cure  he  would 
put  his  horse  to  a  gallop,  and  go  to  have  a  little 
chat  with  his  godfather.  The  horse  would  turn 
his  head  towards  the  Cure,  for  he  knew  very  well 
there  was  always  a  piece  of  sugar  for  him  in  the 
pocket  of  that  old  black  soutane  —  rusty  and  worn 
—  the  morning  soutane.  The  Abbe  Constantin  had 
a  beautiful  new  one,  of  which  he  took  great  care, 
to  wear  in  society  —  when  he  went  into  society. 

The  trumpets  of  the  regiment  sounded  as  they 
passed  through  the  village,  and  all  eyes  sought 
Jean  —  "  little  Jean  "  —  for  to  the  old  people  of 
Longueval  he  was  still  little  Jean.  Certain  wrin- 
kled, broken  down,  old  peasants  had  never  been 
able  to  break  themselves  of  the  habit  of  saluting 
him  when  he  passed  with,  "  Bon  jour,  gamin,  9a  va 
bien  ?  " 

He  was  six  feet  high,  this  "gamin,"  and  Jean 
never  crossed  the  village  without  perceiving  at 
one  window  the  old  furrowed  parchment  skin  of 
Clemence,  and  at  another  the  smiling  countenance 
of   Rosalie.     The   latter  had   married   during  the 


42  THE  ABBE    (JONSTANTIN. 

previous  year,  Jean  had  given  her  away,  and  joy- 
ously on  the  wedding  night  had  he  danced  with 
the  girls  of  Longueval. 

Such  was  the  lieutenant  of  artillery  who  on  May 
28tli,  1881,  at  half-past  four  in  the  afternoon,  sprang 
from  his  horse  before  the  door  of  the  vicarage  of 
Longueval.  He  entered  the  gate,  the  horse  obe- , 
diently  followed,  and  went  by  himself  into  a  little 
shed  in  the  yard.  Pauline  was  at  the  kitchen  win- 
dow ;  Jean  approached  and  kissed  her  heartily  on 
both  cheeks. 

"  Good  evening,  Pauline.     Is  all  well  ?  " 

"  Very  well.  I  am  busy  preparing  your  dinner ; 
woiild  you  like  to  know  what  you  are  going  to 
have  ?  —  potato  soup,  a  leg  of  mutton,  and  a  cus- 
tard." 

"That  is  excellent;  I  shall  enjoy  everything,  for 
I  am  dying  of  hunger." 

"  And  a  salad ;  I  had  forgotten  it ;  you  can  help 
me  cut  it  directly.  Dinner  will  be  at  half-past  six 
exactly,  for  at  half-past  seven  Monsieur  le  Cure 
has  his  service  for  the  month  of  Mary." 

''  Where  is  my  godfather  ?  " 

'•'You  will  find  him  in  the  garden.  He  is  very 
sad  on  account  of  this  sale  of  yesterday." 

"Yes,  I  know,  I  know." 

"  It  will  cheer  him  a  little  to  see  you ;  he  is 
always  so  happy  when  you  are  here.  Take  care; 
Loulou  is  going  to  eat  the  climbing  roses.  How 
hot  he  is  !  " 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  43 

*  I  came  the  long  way  by  the  wood,  and  rode  Tery 
fast." 

Jean  captured  Loulou,  who  was  directing  his 
steps  towards  the  climbing  roses.  He  unsaddled 
him,  fastened  him  in  the  little  shed,  rubbed  him 
down  with  a  great  handful  of  straw,  after  which 
Jean  entered  the  house,  relieved  himself  of  his 
sword  and  kepi,  replaced  the  latter  by  an  old  straw 
hat,  value  sixpence,  and  then  went  to  look  for  his 
godfather  in  the  garden. 

The  poor  Abbe  was  indeed  sad ;  he  had  scarcely 
closed  an  eye  all  night  —  he  who  generally  slept  so 
easily,  so  qviietly,  the  sound  sleep  of  a  child.  His 
soul  was  wrung.  Longueval  in  the  hands  of  a 
foreigner,  of  a  heretic,  of  an  adventuress  ! 

Jean  repeated  what  Paul  had  said  the  evening 
before. 

"You  will  have  money,  plenty  of  money,  for 
your  poor." 

"Money!  money!  Yes,  my  poor  will  not  lose, 
perhaps  they  will  even  gain  by  it ;  but  I  must  go 
and  ask  for  this  money,  and  in  the  salon,  instead  of 
my  old  and  dear  friend,  I  shall  find  this  red-haired 
American.  It  seems  that  she  has  red  hair !  I  will 
certainly  go  for  the  sake  of  my  poor  ^  I  will  go  — 
and  she  will  give  me  the  money,  but  she  will  give 
me  nothing  but  money ;  the  Marqiiise  gave  me 
something  else  —  her  life  and  her  heart.  Every 
week  we  went  together  to  visit  the  sick  and  the 
poor ;  she  knew  all  the  sufferings  and  the  miseries 


44  THE  ABBE    CONSTANTIN. 

of  the  country  round,  and  when  the  gout  nailed  me 
to  my  easy  chair  she  made  the  rounds  alone,  and  as 
well,  or  better  than  I." 

Pauline  interrupted  this  conversation.  She  car- 
ried an  immense  earthenware  salad  dish,  on  which 
bloomed,  violent  and  startling,  enormous  red  flowers. 

"Here  I  am,"  said  Pauline,  "I  am  going  to  cut 
the  salad.    Jean,  would  you  like  lettuce  or  endive  ?  " 

"  Endive,"  said  Jean,  gaily.  "  It  is  a  long  time 
since  I  have  had  any  endive." 

"Well,  you  shall  liave  some  to-night.  Stay,  take 
the  dish." 

Pauline  began  to  cut  the  endive,  and  Jean  bent 
down  to  receive  the  leaves  in  the  great  salad  dish. 
The  Cure  looked  on. 

At  this  moment  a  sound  of  little  bells  was  heard. 
A  carriage  was  ajiproaching ;  one  heard  the  jan- 
gling and  creaking  of  its  wheels.  The  Cure's  little 
garden  was  only  separated  from  the  road  by  a  low 
hedge,  in  the  middle  of  which  was  a  little  trellised 
gate. 

All  three  looked  out,  and  saw  driving  down  the 
road  a  hired  carriage  of  most  primitive  construction, 
drawn  by  two  great  white  horses,  and  driven  by  an 
old  coachman  in  a  blouse.  .  Beside  this  old  coach- 
man was  seated  a  tall  footman  in  livery,  of  the 
most  severe  and  correct  demeanour.  In  the  car- 
riage were  two  young  women,  dressed  both  alike  in 
very  elegant,  but  very  simple  travelling  costumes. 

When   the   carriage  was  opposite  the  gate  the 


THE  ABBE  CONSTANTIN.  45 

coachman  stopped  his  horses,  and  addressing  the 
Abbe  — 

"  Monsieur  le  Cure,"  said  he,  "  these  ladies  wish 
to  speak  to  you." 

Then,  turning  towards  the  ladies  — 

"  This  is  Monsieur  le  Cure  of  Longueval." 

The  Abbe  Constantin  approached  and  opened  the 
little  gate.  The  travellers  alighted.  Their  looks 
rested,  not  without  astonishment,  on  the  young 
officer,  who  stood  there,  a  little  embarrassed,  with 
his  straw  hat  in  one  hand,  and  his  salad  dish,  all 
overflowing  with  endive,  in  the  other. 

The  visitors  entered  the  garden,  and  the  elder  — 
she  seemed  about  twenty-five  —  addressing  the  Abbe 
Constantin,  said  to  him,  with  a  little  foreign  accent, 
very  original  and  very  peculiar  — 

"I  am  obliged  to  introduce  myself  —  Mrs.  Scott; 
I  am  Mrs.  Scott !  It  was  I  who  bought  the  castle 
and  farms  and  all  the  rest  here  at  the  sale  yester- 
day. I  hope  that  I  do  not  disturb  you,  and  that 
you  can  spare  me  five  minutes."  Then,  pointing  to 
her  travelling  companion,  ''  Miss  Bettina  Percival, 
my  sister ;  you  guessed  it,  I  am  sure.  We  are  very 
much  alike,  are  we  not  ?  Ah !  Bettina,  we  have 
left  our  bags  in  the  carriage,  and  we  shall  want 
them  directly." 

"  I  will  get  them." 

And  as  Miss  Percival  prepared  to  go  for  the  two 
little  bags  Jean  said  to  her  — 

"Pray  allow  me." 


46  THE  ABBlS   CON  STAN  TIN. 

"  I  am  really  very  sorry  to  give  you  so  much 
trouble.  The  servant  will  give  them  to  you ;  they 
are  on  the  front  seat." 

She  had  the  same  accent  as  her  sister,  the  same 

—  large  eyes,  black,  laughing,  and  gay  —  and  the 
same  hair,  not  red,  but  fair,  with  golden  shades,  where 
daintily  danced  the  light  of  the  sun.  She  bowed 
to  Jean  with  a  pretty  little  smile,  and  he,  having 
returned  to  Pauline  the  salad  dish  full  of  endive, 
went  to  look  for  the  two  little  bags.     Meanwhile 

—  much  agitated,  sorely  disturbed — the  Abbe  Con- 
stantin  introduced  into  his  vicarage  the  new  Chate- 
laine of  Longueval. 


CHAPTER   III. 


This  vicarage  of  Longueval  was  far  from  being  a 
palace.  The  same  apartment  on  the  ground  floor 
served  for  dining  and  drawing-room,  communicat- 
ing directly  with  the  kitchen  by  a  door,  which  stood 
always  wide  open.  This  room  was  furnished  in  the 
most  scanty  manner ;  two  old  arm-chairs,  six  straw 
chairs,  a  sideboard,  a  round  table.  Pauline  had 
already  laid  the  cloth  for  the  dinner  of  the  Abbe 
and  Jean. 

Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival  went  and  came,  ex- 
amining the  domestic  arrangements  of  the  Cure 
with  a  sort  of  childish  wonder. 

"  But  the  garden,  the  house,  everything  is  charm- 
ing,"  said  Mrs.  Scott. 

47 


48  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

They  both  boldly  penetrated  into  the  kitchen ; 
the  Abbe  Constantin  followed  them,  scared,  bewil- 
dered, stu pitied  at  the  suddenness  and  resolution  of 
this  American  invasion. 

Old  Pauline,  with  an  anxious  and  gloomy  air, 
examined  the  two  foreigners. 

"  There  they  are  then,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  these 
Protestants,  these  accursed  heretics  ! " 

''  I  must  compliment  you,"  said  Bettina ;  ''  it  is  so. 
beautifully  kept.  Look,  Suzie,  is  not  the  vicarage 
altogether  exactly  what  you  wished  ?  " 

"And  so  is  the  Cure,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Scott.  "Yes, 
Monsieur  le  Cure,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so, 
you  do  not  know  how  happy  it  makes  me  to  find 
you  just  what  you  are.  In  the  railway  carriage 
what  did  I  say  to  you,  Bettina  ?  And  again  just 
now,  when  we  were  driving  here  ?  " 

"  My  sister  said  to  me,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  that 
what  she  desired  above  everything  was  a  priest, 
not  young,  or  melancholy,  or  severe,  but  one  witli 
white  hair  and  a  kind  and  gentle  manner.  And 
that  is  exactly  what  you  are,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  ex- 
actly. No,  we  could  not  have  been  more  fortunate. 
Excuse  me  for  speaking  to  you  in  this  manner ;  the 
Parisians  know  how  to  make  pretty  phrases,  but 
I  do  not,  and  in  speaking  French  I  should  often 
be  quite  at  a  loss  if  I  did  not  say  everytliing  in  a 
simple  and  cliildish  way,  as  it  comes  into  my  liead. 
In  a  word,  I  am  satisfied,  quite  satisfied,  and  I  hope 
that  you  too.  Monsieur  le  Cure,  will  be  satisfied 
with  your  new  parishioners." 


THE  ABB^  CONSTANTIN.  49 

"  My  parishioners !  "  exclaimed  the  Cure,  all  at 
once  recovering  speech,  movement,  life,  everything 
which  for  some  moments  had  completely  abandoned 
him.  "  My  parishioners !  Pardon  me,  Madame, 
Mademoiselle,  I  am  so  agitated.  You  will  be  — 
you  are  Catholics  ?  " 

"  Certainly  we  are  Catholics." 

"  Catholics  !  Catholics  ! "  repeated  the  Cure. 

"  Catholics  !  Catholics  ! "  echoed  old  Pauline. 

Mrs.  Scott  looked  from  the  Cure  to  Pauline,  from 
Pauline  to  the  Cure,  much  surprised  that  a  single 
word  should  produce  such  an  effect,  and,  to  com- 
plete the  tableau,  Jean  appeared  carrying  the  two 
little  travelling  bags. 

The  Cure  and  Pauline  saluted  him  with  the  same 
words  — 

"  Catholics  !  Catholics  !  " 

"  Ah !  I  begin  to  understand,"  said  Mrs.  Scott, 
laughing.  "It  is  our  name,  our  country;  you  must 
have  thought  that  we  were  Protestants.  Xot  at  all. 
Our  mother  was  a  Canadian,  French  and  Catholic 
by  descent ;  that  is  why  my  sister  and  I  both  speak 
French,  Avith  an  accent,  it  is  true,  and  with  certain 
American  idioms,  but  yet  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
be  able  to  express  nearly  all  we  want  to  say.  My 
husband  is  a  Protestant,  but  he  allows  me  complete 
liberty,  and  my  two  children  are  Catholics.  That 
is  why.  Monsieur  I'Abbe,  we  wished  to  come  and 
see  you  the  very  first  day." 

"  That  is  one  reason,"  continued  Bettina,  "  but 


50  THE  ABBJ^  CONSTANTIN. 

there  is  also  another ;  but  for  that  reason  we  shall 
want  our  little  bags." 

"  Here  they  are,"  said  Jean. 

While  the  two  little  bags  passed  fron  the  hands 
of  the  officer  to  those  of  Mrs.  Scott  and  Bettina, 
the  Cur6  introduced  Jean  to  the  two  Americans, 
but  his  agitation  was  so  great  that  the  introduction 
was  not  made  strictly  according  to  rule.  The  Cure 
only  forgot  one  thing,  it  is  true,  but  that  was  a 
thing  tolerably  essential  in  an  introduction  —  the 
family  name  of  Jean. 

"  It  is  Jean,"  said  he,  "  my  godson,  lieutenant  of 
artillery,  now  quartered  at  Souvigny.  He  is  one  of 
the  family." 

Jean  made  two  deep  bows,  the  Americans  two 
little  ones,  after  which  they  foraged  in  their  bags 
from  which  each  drew  a  rouleau  of  1,000  francs, 
daintily  enclosed  in  green  sheaths  of  serpent  skin, 
clasped  with  gold. 

"  I  have  brought  you  this  for  your  poor,"  said 
Mrs.  Scott. 

"And  I  have  brought  this,"  said  Bettina. 

"And  besides  that.  Monsieur  le  Cure,  I  am  going 
to  give  you  five  hundred  francs  a  month,"  said 
Mrs.  Scott. 

"  And  I  will  do  like  my  sister." 

Delicately  they  slipped  their  offerings  into  the 
right  and  left  hands  of  the  Cure,  who,  looking  at 
each  hand  alternately,  said  — 

"  What  are  these  little  things  ?     They  are  very 


THE  ABBE  CONSTANTIN.  51 

heavy  ;  there  must  be  money  in  them.  Yes,  but 
how  much,  how  much  ?  " 

The  Abbe  Constantin  was  seventy-two,  and  much 
money  had  passed  through  his  hands,  but  this 
money  had  come  to  him  in  small  sums,  and  the 
idea  of  such  an  offering  as  this  had  never  entered 
his  head.  Two  thovisand  francs  !  Never  had  he 
had  two  thousand  francs  in  his  possession  —  no, 
not  even  one  thousand.     He  stammered  — 

"  I  am  veiy  grateful  to  you,  Madame ;  you  are 
very  good,  ]\Iademoiselle  —  " 

But  after  all  he  could  not  thank  them  enough,  and 
Jean  thought  it  necessary  to  come  to  his  assistance. 

''These  ladies  have  just  given  you  two  thousand 
francs  !  " 

And  then,  full  of  warmest  gratitude,  the  Cure 
cried  — 

"  Two  thousand  francs  !  Two  thousand  francs 
for  my  poor  ! " 

Pauline  suddenly  reappeared. 

"  Here,  Pauline,"  said  the  Cure,  "  put  away  this 
money,  and  take  care  —  " 

Old  Pauline  filled  many  positions  in  this  simple 
household  —  cook,  maid-of-all-work,  treasurer,  dis- 
penser. Her  hands  received  with  a  respectful 
tremble  these  two  little  rouleaux,  Avhich  represented 
so  much  misery  alleviated,  so  much  suffering  re- 
lieved. 

'•'A  thousand  francs  a  month  !  Bat  there  will  be 
no  poor  left  in  the  country." 


52  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

"That  is  just  what  I  wish.  I  am  rich,  very  rich, 
and  so  is  my  sister ;  she  is  even  richer  than  I  am, 
because  a  young  girl  has  not  so  many  expenses, 
while  I  —  Ah  !  well,  I  spend  all  that  I  can  —  all 
that  1  can.  When  one  has  a  great  deal  of  money, 
too  much,  more  than  one  feels  to  be  just,  tell  me. 
Monsieur  le  Cure,  is  there  any  other  way  of  obtain- 
ing pardon  than  to  keep  one's  hands  open,  and 
give,  give,  give,  all  one  can,  and  as  usefully  as  one 
can  ?  Besides,  you  can  give  me  something  in  re- 
turn," and,  turning  to  Pauline,  "  Will  you  be  so 
kind  as  to  give  me  a  glass  of  water  ?  No,  noth- 
ing else,  a  glass  of  cold  water;  I  am  dying  of 
thirst." 

"And  I,"  said  Bettina,  laughing,  while  Pauline 
ran  to  fetch  the  water,  "  I  am  dying  of  something 
else  —  of  hunger,  to  tell  the  truth.  Monsieur  le 
Cure  —  I  know  that  I  am  going  to  be  dreadfully  in- 
trusive ;  I  see  your  cloth  is  laid  —  could  you  not 
invite  us  to  dinner  ?  " 

"  Bettina  !  "  said  Mrs.  Scott. 

"  Let  me  alone,  Suzie,  let  me  alone.  Won't  you. 
Monsieur  le  Cure  ?     I  am  sure  you  will." 

But  he  could  find  no  reply.  The  old  Cure  hardly 
knew  where  he  was.  They  had  taken  his  vicarage 
by  storm:  they  were  Catholics;  they  had  promised 
him  a  thousand  francs  a  month,  and  now  they 
wanted  to  dine  with  him.  Ah  !  that  was  the  last 
stroke.  Terror  seized  him  at  the  thought  of  hav- 
ing to  do  the  honours  of  his  leg  of  mutton  and 


THE  ABBJS   CONSTANTIN.  53 

custard  to  these  two  absurdly  rich  Americans.  He 
murmured  — 

"  Dine  !  —  you  woukl  like  to  dine  here  ?  " 

Jean  thought  he  uuist  interpose  again.  "  It 
would  be  a  great  pleasure  to  my  godfather,"  said 
he,  "  if  you  would  kindly  stay.  But  I  know  what 
disturbs  him.  We  were  going  to  dine  together, 
just  the  two  of  us,  and  you  must  not  expect  a 
feast.     You  will  be  vex-y  indulgent  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  very  indulgent,"  replied  Bettina ; 
then,  addressing  her  sister,  "  Come,  Suzie,  you 
must  not  be  cross,  because  I  have  been  a  little  — 
you  know  it  is  my  way  to  be  a  little —  Let  us 
stay,  will  you  ?  It  will  do  us  good  to  pass  a  quiet 
hour  here,  after  such  a  day  as  we  have  had !  On 
the  railway,  in  the  carriage,  in  the  heat,  in  the 
dust ;  we  had  such  a  horrid  luncheon,  in  such  a 
horrid  hotel.  We  were  to  have  returned  to  the 
same  hotel  at  seven  o'clock  to  dine,  and  then  take 
the  train  back  to  Paris,  but  dinner  here  will  be 
really  much  nicer.  You  won't  say  no  ?  Ah  !  how 
good  you  are,  Suzie  ! " 

She  embraced  her  sister  fondly  ;  then  turning 
towards  the  Cure  — 

"  If  you  only  knew,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  how  good 
she  is ! " 

"Bettina!  Bettina!" 

"  Come,"  said  Jean,  "  quick,  Pauline,  two  more 
plates ;  I  will  help  you." 

"And  so  will  I,"  said  Bettina,  "I  will  help  too. 


54  THE  ABBJS  constantin. 

Oh  !  do  let  me  ;  it  will  be  so  amusing.  Monsieur  le 
Cure,  you  will  let  me  do  a  little  as  if  I  were  at  home  ?  " 

In  a  moment  she  had  taken  off  her  mantle,  and 
Jean  could  admire,  in  all  its  exquisite  perfection, 
a  figure  marvellous  for  sujipleness  and  grace.  Miss 
I'ercival  then  removed  her  hat,  but  with  a  little 
too  much  haste,  for  this  was  the  signal  for  a  charm- 
ing catastrophe.  A  whole  avalanche  descended  in 
torrents,  in  long  cascades,  over  Bettina's  shoulders. 
She  was  standing  before  a  window  flooded  by  the 
rays  of  the  sun,  and  this  golden  light,  falling  full 
on  this  golden  hair,  formed  a  delicious  frame  for 
the  sparkling  beauty  of  the  young  girl.  Confused 
and  blushing,  Bettina  was  obliged  to  call  her  sister 
to  her  aid,  and  Mrs.  Scott  had  much  trouble  in 
introducing  order  into  this  disorder. 

When  this  disaster  was  at  length  repaired,  noth- 
ing could  prevent  Bettina  from  rushing  on  plates, 
knives,  and  forks. 

"  Oh !  indeed,"  said  she  to  Jean,  "  I  know  very 
well  how  to  lay  the  cloth.  Ask  my  sister.  Tell 
him,  Suzie,  when  I  was  a  little  girl  in  New  York, 
I  used  to  lay  the  cloth  very  well,  didn't  I  ?  " 

"Very  well,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Scott 

And  then,  while  begging  the  Cure  to  excuse 
Bettina's  want  of  thought,  she,  too,  took  off  her 
hat  and  mantle,  so  that  Jean  had  again  the  very 
agreeable  spectacle  of  a  charming  figure  and  beau- 
tiful hair ;  but,  to  Jean's  great  regret,  the  catas- 
trophe had  not  a  second  representation. 


THE  ABBlS   CONSTANTIN.  55 

In  a  few  minutes  Mrs.  Scott,  Miss  Percival,  the 
Cure,  and  Jean  were  seated  round  the  little  vic- 
arage table ;  then,  thanks  partly  to  the  impromptu 
and  original  nature  of  the  entertainment,  partly  to 
the  good-humour  and  perhaps  slightly  audacious 
gaiety  of  Bettina,  the  conversation  took  a  turn  of 
the  frankest  and  most  cordial  familiarity. 

"  Now,  Monsieur  le  Cure,"  said  Bettina,  "  you 
shall  see  if  I  did  not  speak  the  truth  when  I  said 
I  was  dying  of  hunger.  I  never  was  so  glad  to  sit 
down  to  dinner.  This  is  such  a  delightful  finish  to 
our  day.  Both  my  sister  and  T  are  perfectly  happy 
now  we  have  this  castle  and  these  farms  and  the 
forest." 

"  And  then,"  said  Mrs.  Scott,  ''  to  have  all  that  in 
such  an  extraordinary  and  unexpected  manner  !  We 
were  so  taken  by  surprise." 

"  You  may  indeed  say  so,  Suzie.  You  must  know, 
Monsieur  I'Abbe,  that  yesterday  was  my  sister's 
birthday.  But  first,  pardon  me,  Monsieur  —  Jean, 
is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Percival,  Monsieur  Jean." 

"  Well,  Monsieur  Jean,  a  little  more  of  that 
excellent  soup,  if  you  please." 

The  Abbe  was  beginning  to  recover  a  little,  but 
he  was  still  too  agitated  to  perform  the  duties  of 
a  host.  It  was  Jean  who  had  undertaken  the  man- 
agement of  his  godfather's  little  dinner.  He  filled 
the  plate  of  the  charming  American,  who  fixed  upon 
him  the  glance  of  two  large  eyes,  in  which  sparkled 


56  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

frankness,  daring,  and  gaiety.  The  eyes  of  Jean, 
meanwhile,  repaid  Miss  Percival  in  the  same  coin. 
It  was  scarcely  three-quarters  of  an  hour  since  the 
young  American  and  the  young  officer  had  made 
acquaintance  in  the  Cure's  garden,  yet  both  felt 
already  perfectly  at  ease  with  each  other,  full  of 
confidence,  almost  like  old  friends. 

"  I  told  you.  Monsieur  I'Abbe,"  continued  Bettina, 
"that  yesterday  was  my  sister's  birthday.  A  week 
ago  my  brother-in-law  was  obliged  to  return  to 
America,  but  at  starting  he  said  to  my  sister,  '  I 
shall  not  be  with  you  on  your  birthday,  but  you 
will  hear  from  me.'  So  yesterday  presents  and 
bouquets  arrived  from  all  quarters,  but  from  my 
brother-in-law,  up  to  five  o'clock,  nothing  —  nothing. 
We  were  just  starting  for  a  ride  in  the  Bois,  and  d, 
propos  of  riding" —  she  stopped,  and  looking  curi- 
ously at  Jean's  great  dusty  boots  — "  Monsieur 
Jean,  you  have  spurs  on." 

"Yes,  Miss  Percival." 

"  Then  you  are  in  the  cavalry  ?  " 

"  I  am  in  the  artillery,  and  that  you  know  is 
cavalry." 

"  And  your  regiment  is  quartered  ?  —  " 

''Quite  near  here." 

''  Then  you  will  be  able  to  ride  with  us  ?  " 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure." 

"That  is  settled.  Let  me  see;  where  was 
I  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  know  at  all  where  you  are,  Bettina, 


THE  ABBE  CON  STAN  TIN.  bl 

and  you  are  telling  these  gentlemen  things  which 
cannot  interest  them." 

"  Oh  !  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  Cur6.  "  The 
sale  of  this  estate  is  the  only  subject  of  conversa- 
tion in  the  neighbourhood  just  now,  and  Miss 
Percival's  account  interests  me  very  much." 

"  You  see,  Suzie,  my  account  interests  Monsieur 
le  Cure  very  much;  then  I  shall  continue.  We 
went  for  our  ride,  we  returned  at  seven  o'clock  — 
nothing.  We  dined,  and  just  when  we  were  leav- 
ing the  table  a  telegram  from  America  arrived.  It 
contained  only  a  few  lines  :  — 

"  '  I  have  ordered  the  purchase  to-day,  for  you 
and  in  your  name,  of  the  castle  and  lands  of 
Longueval,  near  Souvigny,  on  the  northern  railway 
line.' 

"  Then  we  both  burst  into  a  wild  fit  of  laughter 
at  the  thought." 

^'No,  no,  Bettina;  you  calumniate  us  both. 
Our  first  thought  was  one  of  very  sincere  gratitude, 
for  both  my  sister  and  I  are  very  fond  of  the 
country.  My  husband  knows  that  we  have  longed 
to  have  an  estate  in  France.  For  six  months  he 
had  been  looking  out,  and  found  nothing.  At  last 
he  discovered  this  one,  and  without  telling  us 
ordered  it  to  be  bought  for  my  birthday.  It  was  a 
delicate  attention." 

"Yes,  Suzie,  you  are  right,  but  after  the  little 
fit  of  gratitude  we  had  a  great  one  of  gaiety." 

"  Yes,  I  confess  it.     When  we  realised  that  we 


58  THE  ABBJS   con  ST  an  tin. 

had  suddenly  become  possessed  of  a  castle,  witliout 
knowing  in  the  least  where  it  was,  what  it  was  like, 
or  how  much  it  had  cost,  it  seemed  so  like  a  fairy 
tale.  Well,  for  five  good  minutes  we  laughed  with 
all  our  hearts,  then  we  seized  the  map  of  France, 
and  succeeded  in  discovering  Souvigny.  When  we 
had  finished  with  the  map  it  was  the  turn  of  the 
railway  guide,  and  this  morning,  by  the  ten  o'clock 
express,  we  arrived  at  Souvigny. 

"  We  have  passed  the  whole  day  in  visiting  the 
castle,  the  farms,  the  woods,  the  stables.  We  are 
delighted  with  what  we  have  seen.  Only,  Monsieur 
le  Cur6,  there  is  one  thing  about  which  I  feel 
curious.  I  know  that  the  place  was  sold  yester- 
day ;  but  I  have  not  dared  to  ask  either  agent  or 
farmer  who  accompanied  me  in  my  walk  —  for  my 
ignorance  would  have  seemed  too  absurd  —  I  have 
not  dared  to  ask  how  much  it  cost.  In  the  telegram 
my  husband  does  not  mention  the  sum.  Since  I 
am  so  delighted  with  the  place,  the  price  is  only 
a  detail,  but  still  I  should  like  to  know  it.  Tell 
me,  Monsieur  le  Cur^,  do  you  know  what  it 
cost?" 

"  An  enormous  price,"  replied  the  Cure,  '^  for 
many  hopes  and  many  ambitions  were  excited  about 
Longueval." 

"  An  enormous  price  !  You  frighten  me.  How 
much  exactly  ?  " 

"■  Three  millions  !  " 

'•  Is  that  all  ?     Is  that  all  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Scott. 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  69 

"The  castle,  the  farms,  the  forest,  all  for  three 
millions." 

"  But  that  is  nothing,"  said  Bettina.  "  That  de- 
licious little  stream  which  wanders  through  the 
park  is  alone  worth  three  millions." 

"  And  you  said  just  now,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  that 
there  were  several  persons  who  disputed  the  pur- 
chase with  VIS  ?  " 

•'  Yes,  Mrs.  Scott." 

"  And,  after  the  sale,  was  my  name  mentioned 
among  the  persons  ?  " 

"Certainly  it  was." 

"  And  when  my  name  was  mentioned  was  there 
no  one  there  who  spoke  of  me  ?  Yes,  yes,  your 
silence  is  a  sufficient  answer ;  they  did  speak  of 
me.  Well,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  I  am  now  serious, 
very  serious.  I  beg  you  as  a  favour  to  tell  me 
what  was  said." 

"  But,"  replied  the  poor  Cure,  who  felt  himself 
upon  burning  coals,  "they  spoke  of  your  large 
fortune." 

"  Yes,  of  course,  they  would  be  obliged  to  speak 
of  that,  and  no  doubt  they  said  that  I  was  very 
rich,  but  had  not  been  rich  long — that  I  was  a  par- 
venue.  Very  well,  but  that  is  not  all ;  they  must 
have  said  something  else." 

"  No,  indeed  ;  I  have  heard  nothing  else." 

"  Oh !  Monsieur  le  Cure,  that  is  what  you  may 
call  a  white  lie,  and  it  is  making  you  very  unhappy, 
because  naturally  you  are  the  soul  of  truth,  but  if 


60  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

1  torment  you  thus  it  is  because  I  have  the  greatest 
interest  in  knowing  what  was  said." 

"You  are  right,"  interrupted  Jean,  ''you  are 
right.  They  said  you  were  one  of  the  most  elegant, 
the  most  brilliant,  and  the  —  " 

"  And  one  of  the  prettiest  women  in  Paris.  With 
a  little  indulgence  they  might  say  that ;  but  that  is 
not  all  yet  —  there  is  something  else." 

"  Oh  !  I  assure  you  —  " 

"Yes,  there  is  something  else,  and  I  should  like 
to  hear  it  this  very  moment,  and  I  should  like  the 
information  to  be  very  frank  and  very  exact.  It 
seems  to  me  that  I  am  in  a  lucky  vein  to-day,  and 
I  feel  as  if  you  were  both  a  little  inclined  to  be  my 
friends,  and  that  you  will  be  so  entirely  some  day. 
Well,  tell  me  if  I  am  right  in  supposing  that 
should  false  and  absurd  stories  be  told  about  me, 
you  will  help  me  to  contradict  them  ?  " 

"  Yes  ! "  replied  Jean,  "  you  are  right  in  believing 
that." 

"  Well,  then,  it  is  to  you  I  address  myself.  You 
are  a  soldier,  and  courage  is  part  of  your  profes- 
sion. Promise  me  to  be  brave.  Will  you  promise 
me  ?  " 

"What  do  you  understand  by  being  brave  ?  " 

"  Promise,  promise  —  without  explanations,  with- 
out conditions." 

"Well,  I  promise." 

"You  will  then  reply  frankly,  'Yes'  or  'No/  to 
questions  ?  " 


THE  ABB£   con  STAN  tin.  61 

"I  will." 

"Did  they  say  that  I  had  begged  in  the  streets 
of  New  York  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  said  so." 

"  Did  they  say  I  had  been  a  rider  in  a  travel- 
ling circus  ?  " 

"Yes,  they  said  that  too." 

"  Very  well ;  that  is  plain  speaking.  Now  re- 
mark first  that  in  all  this  there  is  nothing  that  one 
might  not  acknowledge  if  it  were  true ;  but  it  is 
not  true,  and  have  I  not  the  right  of  denying  it  ? 
My  history  —  I  will  tell  it  you  in  a  few  words.  I 
am  going  to  pass  a  part  of  my  life  in  this  place, 
and  I  desire  that  all  should  know  who  I  am  and 
whence  I  come.  To  begin  then.  Poor!  Yes,  I 
have  been,  and  very  poor.  Eight  years  ago  my 
father  died,  and  was  soon  followed  by  my  mother. 
I  was  then  eighteen,  and  Bettina  nine.  We  were 
alone  in  the  world,  encumbered  with  heavy  debts  and 
a  great  lawsuit.  My  father's  last  words  had  been, 
'  Suzie,  never,  never  compromise.  Millions,  my  chil- 
dren, you  will  have  millions.'  He  embraced  us 
both ;  soon  delirium  seized  him,  and  he  died  re- 
peating, '  Millions  !  millions  ! '  The  next  morning 
a  lawyer  appeared,  who  offered  to  pay  all  our  debts, 
and  to  give  us  besides  ten  thousand  dollars,  if  we 
would  give  up  all  our  claims.  I  refused.  It  was 
then  that  for  several  months  we  were  very  poor." 

"  And  it  was  then,"  said  Bettina,  "  that  I  used  to 
lay  the  cloth." 


62  THE  abb£  constantin. 

"1  spent  my  life  among  the  solicitors  of  New 
York*,  but  no  one  would  take  up  my  case ;  every 
where  I  received  the  same  reply,  'Your  cause  is  very 
doubtful ;  you  have  rich  and  formidable  adversaries  ; 
you  need  money,  large  sums  of  money,  to  bring 
such  a  case  to  a  conclusion,  and  you  have  nothing. 
They  offer  to  pay  your  debts,  and  to  give  you  ten 
thousand  dollars  besides.  Accept  it,  and  sell  your 
case.'  But  my  father's  last  words  rang  in  my  ears, 
and  I  would  not.  Poverty,  however,  might  soon 
have  forced  me  to,  when  one  day  I  made  another  at- 
tempt on  one  of  my  father's  old  friends,  a  banker 
in  New  York,  Mr.  William  Scott.  He  was  not 
alone  ;  a  young  man  was  sitting  in  his  office. 

"  '  You  may  speak  freely,'  said  Mr.  Scott ;  '  it  is 
my  son  Richard.' 

"  I  looked  at  the  young  man,  he  looked  at  me, 
and  we  recognized  each  other. 

"  '  Suzie  ! ' 

"  '  Richard  ! ' 

"Formerly,  as  children,  we  had  often  played 
together  and  were  great  friends.  Seven  or  eight 
years  before  this  meeting  he  had  been  sent  to 
Europe  to  finish  his  education.  We  shook  hands ; 
his  father  made  me  sit  down,  and  asked  what  had 
brought  me.     He  listened  to  my  tale,  and  replied  — 

"  '  You  would  require  twenty  or  thirty  thousand 
dollars.  No  one  would  lend  you  such  a  sum  upon 
the  uncertain  chances  of  a  very  complicated  lawsuit. 
If  you  are  in  difficulties;  if  you  need  assistance  — ' 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  63 

"  '  It  is  not  that,  father.  That  is  not  what  Miss 
Percival  asks.' 

"  '  I  know  that  very  well,  but  what  she  asks  is 
impossible.' 

"  He  rose  to  let  me  out.  Then  the  sense  of  my 
helplessness  overpowered  me  for  the  first  time 
since  my  father's  death.  I  burst  into  a  violent 
flood  of  tears.  An  hour  later  Richard  Scott  was 
with  me. 

" '  Suzie,'  he  said,  '  promise  to  accept  what  I  am 
going  to  offer.' 

"  I  promised  him. 

"  '  Well,'  said  he,  '  on  the  single  condition  that 
my  father  shall  know  nothing  about  it,  I  place  at 
your  disposal  the  necessary  sum.' 

" '  But  then  you  ought  to  know  what  the  lawsuit 
is  —  what  it  is  worth.' 

" '  I  do  not  know  a  single  word  about  it,  and  I  do 
not  wish  to.  Besides,  you  have  promised  to  accept 
it ;  you  cannot  withdraw  now.' 

"  I  accepted.  Three  months  after  the  case  was 
ours.  All  this  vast  property  became  beyond  dis- 
pute the  property  of  Bettina  and  me.  The  other 
side  offered  to  buy  it  of  us  for  five  millions.  I 
consulted  Richard. 

"  '  Refuse  it  and  wait,'  said  he  ;  *  if  they  offer  you 
such  a  sum  it  is  because  the  property  is  worth 
double.' 

" '  However,  I  must  return  you  your  money ;  I 
owe  you  a  great  deal.' 


64  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

"  '  Oh  !  as  for  that  there  is  no  hurry  ;  I  am  very 
easy  about  it ;  my  money  is  quite  safe  now.' 

" '  But  1  shoukl  like  to  pay  you  at  once.  I  have 
a  horror  of  debt !  Perhaps  there  is  another  way 
without  selling  the  property.  Richard,  will  you  be 
my  husband  ? ' 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  le  Cur6,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Scott, 
laughing,  *'  it  is  thus  that  I  threw  myself  at  my 
husband's  head.  It  is  I  who  asked  his  hand.  But 
really  I  was  obliged  to  act  thus.  Never,  never 
would  he  have  spoken  ;  I  had  become  too  rich,  and 
as  it  was  me  he  loved,  and  not  my  money,  he  was 
becoming  terribly  afraid  of  me.  That  is  the 
history  of  my  marriage.  As  to  the  history  of  my 
fortune,  it  can  be  told  in  a  few  words.  There  were 
indeed  millions  in  those  wide  lands  of  Colorado ; 
they  discovered  there  abundant  mines  of  silver, 
and  from  those  mines  we  draw  every  year  an  in- 
come which  is  beyond  reason,  but  we  have  agreed 
—  my  husband,  my  sister,  and  myself  —  to  give  a 
very  large  share  of  this  income  to  the  poor.  You 
see,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  it  is  because  we  have  known 
very  hard  times  that  you  will  always  find  us  ready 
to  help  those  who  are,  as  we  have  been  ourselves, 
involved  in  the  difficulties  and  sorrows  of  life. 
And  now.  Monsieur  Jean,  will  you  forgive  me  this 
long  discourse,  and  offer  me  a  little  of  that  cream, 
which  looks  so  very  good  ?  " 

This  cream  was  Pauline's  custard,  and  while  Jean 
was  serving  Mrs.  Scott  — 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  65 

"  I  have  not  yet  finished,"  she  continued.  "  You 
ought  to  know  what  gave  rise  to  these  extravagant 
stories.  A  year  ago,  when  we  settled  in  Paris,  we 
considered  it  our  duty  on  our  arrival  to  give  a  certain 
sum  to  the  poor.  Who  was  it  spoke  of  that  ?  Kone 
of  us,  certainly,  but  the  thing  was  told  in  a  news- 
paper, with  the  amount.  Immediately  two  young 
reporters  hastened  to  subject  Mr.  Scott  to  a  little 
examination  on  his  past  history ;  they  wished  to 
give  a  sketch  of  our  career  in  the — what  do  you 
call  them?  —  society  papers.  Mr.  Scott  is  some- 
times a  little  hasty ;  he  was  so  on  this  occasion, 
and  dismissed  these  gentlemen  rather  brusquely 
without  telling  them  anything.  So,  as  they  did 
not  know  our  real  history,  they  invented  one, 
and  certainly  displayed  a  very  lively  imagination. 
First  they  related  how  I  had  begged  in  the  snow 
in  New  York ;  the  next  day  appeared  a  still  more 
sensational  article,  which  made  me  a  rider  in  a 
circus  in  Philadelphia.  You  have  some  very 
funny  papers  in  France,  so  have  we  in  America 
for  the  matter  of  that." 

During  the  last  five  minutes  Pauline  had  been 
making  desperate  signs  to  the  Cure,  who  persisted 
in  not  understanding  them,  till  at  last  the  poor 
woman,  calling  up  all  her  courage,  said  — 

"  Monsieur  le  Cure,  it  is  a  quarter  past  seven." 

"  A  quarter  past  seven  !  Ladies,  I  must  beg  you 
to  excuse  me.  This  evening  I  have  the  special  ser- 
vice for  the  month  of  Mary." 


66  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

"  The  month  of  Mary  ?  And  will  the  service 
begin  directly  ?  " 

"Yes,  directly." 

"  And  when  does  our  train  start  for  Paris  ?  " 

"At  half-past  nine,"  replied  Jean. 

"  Suzie,  can  we  not  go  to  church  first  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  will  go,"  replied  Mrs.  Scott ;  "  but  be- 
fore we  separate,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  I  have  one 
favour  to  ask  you.  I  should  like  very  much,  the 
first  time  I  dine  at  Longueval,  that  you  would  dine 
with  me,  and  you  too,  Monsieur  Jean,  just  us  four 
alone  like  to-day.  Oh !  do  not  refuse  my  invita- 
tion ;  it  is  given  with  all  my  heart." 

"  And  accepted  as  heartily,"  replied  Jean. 

"  I  will  write  and  tell  you  the  day,  and  it  shall 
be  as  soon  as  possible.  You  call  that  having  a 
house-warming,  don't  you  ?  Well,  we  will  have 
the  house-warming  all  to  ourselves." 

Meanwhile  Pauline  had  drawn  Miss  Percival 
into  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  was  talking  to  her 
with  great  animation.  The  conversation  ended 
with  these  words  — 

"You  will  be  there?"  said  Bettina,  "and  you  will 
tell  me  the  exact  moment  ?  " 

"I  will  tell  you,  but  take  care.  Here  is  Mon- 
sieur le  Cure  ;  he  must  not  suspect  anything." 

The  two  sisters,  the  Cure  and  Jean  left  the 
house.  To  go  to  the  church  they  were  obliged  to 
cross  the  churchyard.     The  evening  was  delicious. 


THE  ABBli   CONSTANTIN.  67 

Slowly,  silently,  under  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
the  four  walked  down  a  long  avenue. 

On  their  way  was  the  monument  to  Dr.  Reynaud, 
very  simple,  but  which  yet,  by  its  proportions, 
showed  distinctly  among  the  other  tombs. 

Mrs.  Scott  and  Bettina  stopped,  struck  with  this 
inscription  carved  on  the  stone  — 

"Here  lies  Dr.  Marcel  Reynaud,  Surgeon-Major 
of  the  Souvigny  Mobiles;  killed  January  8th,  1871, 
at  the  battle  of  Villersexel.     Pray  for  him." 

When  they  had  read  it,  the  Cure,  pointing  to 
Jean,  said — 

"  It  was  his  father ! " 

The  two  sisters  drew  near  the  tomb,  and  with 
bent  heads  remained  there  for  some  minutes,  pen- 
sive, touched,  contemplative.  Then  both  turned, 
and  at  the  same  moment,  by  the  same  impulse, 
offered  their  hands  to  Jean ;  then  continued  their 
walk  to  the  church.  Their  first  prayer  at  Longue- 
val  had  been  for  the  father  of  Jean. 

The  Cure  went  to  put  on  his  surplice  and  stole. 
Jean  conducted  Mrs.  Scott  to  the  seat  which  be- 
longed to  the  masters  of  Longueval. 

Pauline  had  gone  on  before.  She  was  waiting 
for  Miss  Percival  in  the  shadow  behind  one  of  the 
pillars.  By  a  steep  and  narrow  staircase  she  led 
Bettina  to  the  gallery,  and  placed  her  before  the 
harmonium. 

Preceded   by  two   little  chorister  boys,  the  old 


68  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

Cure  left  the  vestry,  atid  at  the  moment  when  he 
knelt  on  the  steps  of  the  altar  — 

"  Now !  miss,"  said  Pauline,  whose  heart  beat 
with  impatience.  ''Poor  dear  man,  how  pleased 
he  will  be." 

When  he  heard  the  sound  of  the  music  rise,  soft 
as  a  murmur,  and  spread  through  the  little  church, 
the  Abbe  Constantin  was  filled  with  such  emotion, 
such  joy,  that  the  tears  came  to  his  eyes.  He  could 
not  remember  having  wept  since  the  day  when  Jean 
had  said  that  he  wished  to  share  all  that  he  pos- 
sessed with  the  mother  and  sister  of  those  who  had 
fallen  by  his  father's  side  under  the  Prussian  bul- 
lets. 

To  bring  tears  to  the  eyes  of  the  old  priest  a 
little  American  had  been  brought  across  the  seas  to 
play  a  reverie  of  Chopin  in  the  little  church  of 
Longueval. 


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B|iMlg  ' 

CHAPTER   IV. 


The  next  day,  at  half-past  five  in  the  morning, 
the  bugle-call  rang  through  the  barrack-yard  at 
Souvigny.  Jean  mounted  his  horse,  and  took  his 
place  with  his  division.  By  the  end  of  May  all  the 
recruits  in  the  army  are  sufficiently  instructed  to 
be  capable  of  sharing  in  the  general  evolutions. 
Almost  every  day  manoeuvres  of  the  mounted  artil- 
lery are  executed  on  the  parade  ground.  Jean 
loved  his  profession ;  he  was  in  the  habit  of  in- 
specting carefully  the  grooming  and  harness  of 
the  horses,  the  equipment  and  carriage  of  his  men. 
This  morning,  however,  he  bestowed  but  scant  at- 
tention on  all  the  little  details  of  his  duty. 

One  problem  agitated,  tormented  him,  and  left 

69 


70  THE  ABBE    CONSTANTIN. 

him  always  undecided,  and  this  problem  was  one 
of  those  the  solution  of  which  is  not  given  at  the 
Ecole  Polytechnique.  Jean  could  find  no  convinc- 
ing reply  to  this  question,  "  Which  of  the  two  sis- 
ters is  the  prettier." 

At  the  butts,  during  the  first  part  of  the  manoeu- 
vre, each  battery  worked  on  its  own  account,  under 
the  orders  of  the  captain ;  but  he  often  relinquished 
the  place  to  one  of  his  lieutenants,  in  order  to  ac- 
custom them  to  the  management  of  six  field-pieces. 
It  happened  on  this  day  that  the  command  was 
entrusted  to  the  hands  of  Jean.  To  the  great  sur- 
prise of  the  captain,  in  whose  estimation  his  lieu- 
tenant held  the  first  rank  as  a  well-trained,  smart, 
and  capable  officer,  everything  went  wrong.  The 
captain  was  obliged  to  interfere  :  he  addressed  a 
little  reprimand  to  Jean,  which  terminated  in  these 
words  — 

"  I  cannot  understand  it  at  all.  What  is  the 
matter  with  you  this  morning  ?  It  is  the  first 
time  such  a  thing  has  happened  with  you." 

It  was  also  the  first  time  that  Jean  had  seen 
anything  at  the  butts  at  Souvigny  but  cannon, 
ammunition  waggons,  horses,  or  gunners. 

In  the  clouds  of  dust  raised  by  the  wheels  of  the 
waggons  and  the  hoofs  of  the  horses  Jean  beheld, 
not  the  second  mounted  battery  of  the  ninth  regi- 
ment of  artillery,  but  the  distant  images  of  two 
Americans  with  black  eyes  and  golden  hair;  and, 
at  the  moment  when  he  listened  respectfully  to  the 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  71 

well-merited  lecture  from  his  captain,  lie  was  in  the 
act  of  saying  to  himself  — 

"  The  prettier  is  Mrs.  Scott !  " 

Every  morning  the  exercise  is  divided  into  two 
parts  by  a  little  interval  of  ten  minutes.  The  offi- 
cers gathered  together  and  talked ;  Jean  remained 
apart,  alone  with  his  recollections  of  the  previous 
evening.  His  thoughts  obstinately  gathered  round 
the  vicarage  of  Longueval. 

"  Yes  !  the  more  charming  of  the  two  sisters  was 
Mrs.  Scott ;  Miss  Percival  was  only  a  child." 

He  saw  again  Mrs.  Scott  at  the  Cure's  little  table. 
He  heard  her  story  told  with  such  frankness,  such 
freedom.  The  harmony  of  that  very  peculiar,  very 
fascinating  voice,  still  enchanted  his  ear.  He  was 
again  in  the  church ;  she  was  there  before  him, 
beading  over  her  prie-Dieu,  her  pretty  head  resting 
in  her  two  little  hands ;  then  the  music  arose,  and 
far  off,  in  the  dusk,  Jean  perceived  the  fine  and 
delicate  profile  of  Bettina. 

"  A  child  —  was  she  only  a  child  ?  " 

The  trumpets  sounded,  the  practice  recommenced ; 
this  time,  fortunately,  no  command,  no  responsi- 
bility. The  four  batteries  executed  their  evolutions 
together;  this  immense  mass  of  men,  horses  and 
carriages,  deployed  in  every  direction,  now  drawn 
out  in  a  long  line,  again  collected  into  a  compact 
group.  All  stopped  at  the  same  instant  along  the 
whole  extent  of  the  ground;  the  gunners  sprang 
from   their   horses,  ran   to   their   pieces,  detached 


72  THE  ABB^   CON  STAN  TIN. 

each  from  its  team,  which  went  off  at  a  trot,  and 
prepared  to  lire  with  amazing  rapidity.  Then  the 
horses  returned,  the  men  re-attached  their  pieces, 
sprang  quickly  to  saddle,  and  the  regiment  started 
at  full  gallop  across  the  field. 

Very  gently  in  the  thoughts  of  Jean,  Bettina  re- 
gained her  advantage  over  Mrs.  Scott.  She  ap- 
peared to  him  smiling  and  blushing  amid  the  sun-lit 
clouds  of  her  floating  hair.  Monsieur  Jean,  she  had 
called  him.  Monsieur  Jean,  and  never  had  his  name 
sounded  so  sweet.  And  that  last  pressure  of  the 
hand  on  taking  leave,  before  entering  the  carriage. 
Had  not  Miss  Percival  given  him  a  more  cordial 
clasp  than  Mrs.  Scott  had  done  ?  Yes,  positively 
a  little  more. 

"  I  was  mistaken,"  thought  Jean ;  "  the  prettier 
is  Miss  Percival." 

The  day's  work  was  finished ;  the  pieces  were 
ranged  regularly  in  line  one  behind  the  other ;  they 
defiled  rapidly,  with  a  horrible  clatter,  and  in  a 
cloud  of  dust.  When  Jean,  sword  in  hand,  passed 
before  his  colonel,  the  images  of  the  two  sisters 
were  so  confused  and  intermingled  in  his  recollec- 
tion that  they  melted  the  one  in  the  other,  and  be- 
came in  some  measure  the  image  of  one  and  the 
same  person.  Any  parallel  became  impossible  be. 
tween  them,  thanks  to  this  singular  confusion  of 
the  two  points  of  comparison.  Mrs.  Scott  and 
Miss  Percival  remained  thus  inseparable  in  the 
thoughts  of  Jean  until  the  day  when  it  was  granted 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  73 

to  him  to  see  them  again.  The  impression  of  that 
meeting  was  not  effaced  ;  it  was  always  there,  per- 
sistent, and  very  sweet,  till  Jean  began  to  feel 
disturbed. 

"  Is  it  possible  "  —  so  ran  his  meditations  —  "  is 
it  possible  that  I  have  been  guilty  of  the  folly  of 
falling  in  love  madly  at  first  sight  ?  No  ;  one  might 
fall  in  love  with  a  woman,  but  not  with  two  women 
at  once." 

That  thought  reassured  him.  He  was  very 
young,  this  great  fellow  of  four-and-twenty  ;  never 
had  love  entered  fully  into  his  heart.  Love !  He 
knew  very  little  about  it,  except  from  books,  and 
he  had  read  but  few  of  them.  But  he  was  no  angel ; 
he  could  find  plenty  of  attractions  in  the  "grisettes  " 
of  Souvigny,  and  when  they  would  allow  him  to 
tell  them  that  they  were  charming  he  was  quite 
ready  to  do  so,  but  it  had  never  entered  his  head  to 
regard  as  love  those  passing  fancies,  which  only 
caused  the  slightest  and  most  superficial  disturbance 
in  his  heart. 

Paul  de  Lavardens  had  marvellous  powers  of  en- 
thusiasm and  idealization.  His  heart  sheltered 
always  two  or  three  "grandes  passions,"  which 
lived  there  in  perfect  harmony.  Paul  had  been  so 
clever  as  to  discover,  in  this  little  town  of  fifteen 
thousand  souls,  numbers  of  pretty  girls,  all  made 
to  be  adored.  He  always  believed  himself  the  dis- 
coverer of  America,  when,  in  fact,  he  had  done 
nothing  but  follow  in  the  track  of  other  navigators. 


74  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

The  world  —  Jean  had  scarcely  encouutered  it. 
He  had  allowed  himself  to  be  dragged  by  Paul,  a 
dozen  times,  perhaps,  to  soirees  or  balls  at  the  great 
houses  of  the  neighbourhood.  He  had  invariably 
returned  thoroughly  bored,  and  had  concluded  that 
these  pleasures  were  not  made  for  him.  His  tastes 
were  simple,  serious.  He  loved  solitude,  work,  long 
walks,  open  space,  horses,  and  books.  He  was 
rather  savage  —  a  son  of  the  soil.  He  loved  liis 
village,  and  all  the  old  friends  of  his  childhood.  A 
quadrille  in  a  drawing-room  caused  him  unspeak- 
able terror ;  but  every  year,  at  the  festival  of  the 
patron  saint  of  Longueval,  he  danced  gaily  with  the 
young  girls  and  farmers'  daughters  of  the  neighbour- 
hood. 

If  he  had  seen  Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival  at 
home  in  Paris,  in  all  the  splendour  of  their  luxury, 
in  all  the  perfection  of  their  costly  surroundings, 
he  would  have  looked  at  them  from  afar,  with 
curiosity,  as  exquisite  works  of  art.  Then  he  would 
have  returned  home,  and  would  have  slept,  as 
usual,  the  most  peaceful  slumber  in  the  world. 

Yes,  but  it  was  not  thus  that  the  thing  had  come 
to  pass,  and  hence  his  excitement,  lience  his  dis- 
turbance. These  two  women  had  shown  them- 
selves before  him  in  the  midst  of  a  circle  with 
which  he  was  familiar,  and  which  had  been,  if  only 
for  this  reason,  singularly  favourable  to  them. 
Simple,  good,  frank,  cordial,  such  as  they  had 
shown  themselves  the  very  first  day,  and  delight- 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  75 

fully  pretty  into  the  bargain  —  a  fact  which  is 
never  insignificant.  Jean  fell  at  once  under  the 
charm  ;  he  was  there  still ! 

At  the  moment  when  he  dismounted  in  the 
barrack-yard,  at  nine  o'clock,  the  old  priest  began 
his  campaign  joyously.  Since  the  previous  even- 
ing the  Abba's  head  had  been  on  fire ;  Jean  had 
not  slept  much,  but  he  had  not  slept  at  all.  He 
had  risen  very  early,  and  with  closed  doors,  alone 
with  Pauline,  he  had  counted  and  re-counted  his 
money,  spreading  on  the  table  his  hundred  "louis 
d'or,"  gloating  over  them  like  a  miser,  and  like  a 
miser  finding  exquisite  pleasure  in  handling  his 
hoard.  All  that  was  his  !  for  him  !  —  that  is  to 
say,  for  the  poor. 

"  Do  not  be  too  lavish.  Monsieur  le  Cure,"  said 
Pauline ;  "  be  economical.  I  think  that  if  you 
distribute  to-day  a  hundred  francs  —  " 

"  That  is  not  enough,  Pauline.  I  shall  only  have 
one  such  day  in  my  life,  but  one  I  will  have.  How 
much  do  you  think  I  shall  give  to-day  ?  " 

"  How  much.  Monsieur  le  Cure  ?  " 

"  A  thousand  francs  ! " 

"  A  thousand  francs  ! !  " 

"  Yes.  We  are  millionnaries  now ;  we  possess  all 
the  treasures  of  America,  and  you  talk  about 
economy  ?  Xot  to-day,  at  all  events ;  indeed,  I 
have  no  right  to  think  of  it." 

After  saying  mass,  at  nine  o'clock  he  set  out,  and 
showered  gold  along  his  way.     All  had  a  share  — 


76  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

the  poor  who  acknowledged  their  poverty  and  those 
who  concealed  it.  Each  alms  was  accompanied  by 
the  same  little  discourse  — 

"  This  comes  from  the  new  owners  of  Longueval 
—  two  American  ladies,  Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss 
Percival.  Remember  their  names,  and  pray  for 
them." 

Then  he  made  off  without  waiting  for  thanks, 
across  the  fields,  through  the  woods,  from  hamlet 
to  hamlet,  from  cottage  to  cottage  —  on,  on,  on. 
A  sort  of  intoxication  mounted  to  his  brain. 
Everywhere  were  cries  of  joy  and  astonishment. 
All  these  "  louis  d'or  "  fell,  as  if  by  a  miracle,  into 
the  poor  hands  accustomed  to  receive  little  pieces  of 
silver.  The  Cure  was  guilty  of  follies,  actual 
follies.  He  was  out  of  bounds  ;  he  did  not  recog- 
nize himself ;  he  had  lost  all  control  over  himself ; 
he  even  gave  to  those  who  did  not  expect  any- 
thing. 

He  met  Claude  Rigal,  the  old  sergeant,  who  had 
left  one  of  his  arms  at  Sebastopol.  He  was  grow- 
ing grey  —  nay,  white,  for  time  passes,  and  the 
soldiers  of  the  Crimea  will  soon  be  old  men. 

"  Here  !  "  said  the  Cur6,  "  I  have  twenty  francs 
for  you," 

"  Twenty  francs !  But  I  never  asked  for  any- 
thing ;  I  don't  want  anything ;  I  have  my  pension." 

His  pension  !  Seven  hundred  francs  ! 

"  But  listen  ;  it  will  be  something  to  buy  you 
cigars.     It  comes  from  America." 


THE  abb:^  constantin.  77 

And  then  followed  the  Abba's  little  speech  about 
the  masters  of  Longueval. 

He  went  to  a  poor  woman,  whose  son  had  gone 
to  Tunis. 

"  Well,  how  is  your  son  getting  on  ?  " 

"  Not  so  bad,  Monsieur  le  Cure ;  I  had  a  letter 
from  him  yesterday.  He  does  not  complain,  he  is 
very  well,  only  he  says  there  are  no  Kroomirs. 
Poor  boy !  I  have  been  saving  for  a  month,  and  I 
think  I  shall  soon  be  able  to  send  him  ten 
francs  ? " 

"You  shall  send  him  thirty.     Take  this." 

"  Twenty  francs  !  Monsieur  le  Cure,  you  give  me 
twenty  francs  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  lor  you." 

"  For  my  boy  ?  " 

"  For  your  boy.  But  listen  ;  you  must  know 
from  whom  it  comes,  and  you  must  take  care  to 
tell  your  son  Avhen  you  write  to  him." 

Again  the  little  speech  about  the  new  owners  of 
Longueval,  and  again  the  adjuration  to  remember 
them  in  their  prayers.  At  six  o'clock  he  returned 
liome,  exhausted  with  fatigue,  but  with  his  soul 
filled  with  joy. 

"  I  have  given  away  all,"  he  cried,  as  soon  as  he 
saw  Pauline,  "  all !  all !  all ! " 

He  dined,  and  then  went  in  the  evening  to  per- 
form the  usual  service  for  the  month  of  Mary.  But 
this  time,  the  harmonium  was  silent;  Miss  Percival 
was  no  longer  there. 


78  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

The  little  organist  of  the  evening  before  was  at 
that  moment  much  perplexed.  On  two  couches  in 
her  dressing-room  were  spread  two  dresses  —  a 
white  and  a  blue.  Bettina  was  meditating  which 
of  these  two  dresses  she  would  wear  to  go  to  the 
Opera  that  evening.  After  long  hesitation  she 
fixed  on  the  blue.  At  half-past  nine  the  two 
sisters  ascended  the  grand  staircase  of  the  Opera 
House.  Just  as  they  entered  their  box  the  curtain 
rose  on  the  second  scene  of  the  second  act  of  Atda, 
that  containing  the  ballet  and  march. 

Two  young  men,  Roger  de  Puymartin  and  Louis 
de  Martillet,  were  seated  in  the  front  of  a  stage- 
box.  The  young  ladies  of  the  corps  de  ballet  had 
not  yet  appeared,  and  these  gentlemen,  having  no 
occupation,  were  amusing  themselves  with  looking 
about  the  house.  The  appearance  of  Miss  Percival 
made  a  strong  impression  upon  both. 

"  Ah  !  ah  ! "  said  Puymartin,  "  there  she  is,  the 
little  golden  nugget !  " 

"  She  is  perfectly  dazzling  this  evening,  this  little 
golden  nugget,"  continued  Martillet.  ''  Look  at 
her,  at  the  line  of  her  neck,  the  fall  of  her  shoul- 
ders—  still  a  young  girl,  and  already  a  woman." 

"Yes,  she  is  charming,  and  tolerably  well  off 
into  the  bargain." 

"  Fifteen  millions  of  her  own,  and  the  silver 
mine  is  still  productive." 

"  Berulle  told  me  twenty -five  millions,  and  he  is 
very  well  up  in  American  affairs." 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  79 

"Twenty -five  millions!  A  pretty  haul  for 
Romanelli ! "    - 

"What?  Romanelli!" 

"Report  says  that  that  will  be  a  match;  that  it 
is  already  settled." 

"  A  match  may  be  arranged,  but  with  Montessan, 
not  with  Romanelli.  Ah !  at  last !  Here  is  the 
ballet." 

They  ceased  to  talk.  The  ballet  in  A'ida  only 
lasts  five  minutes,  and  for  those  five  minutes  they 
had  come.  Consequently  they  must  be  enjoyed 
respectfully,  religiously,  for  there  is  that  peculiarity 
among  a  number  of  the  habitues  of  the  Opera,  that 
they  chatter  like  magpies  when  they  ought  to  be 
silent,  to  listen,  and  that  they  observe  the  most 
absolute  silence  when  they  might  be  allowed  to 
speak,  while  looking  on. 

The  trumpets  of  "Aula"  had  given  their  last 
heroic  fanfare  in  honour  of  Radames  before  the 
great  sphinxes  under  the  green  foliage  of  the  palm 
trees,  the  dancers  advanced,  the  light  trembling 
on  their  spangled  robes,  and  took  possession  of 
the  stage. 

With  much  attention  and  pleasure  Mrs.  Scott 
followed  the  evolutions  of  the  ballet,  but  Bettina 
had  suddenly  become  thoughtful  on  perceiving  in  a 
box,  on  the  other  side  of  the  house,  a  tall,  dark 
young  man.  Miss  Percival  talked  to  herself,  and 
said  — 

"What  shall   I  do  ?     What  shall  I  decide  on? 


80  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

Mvist  I  marry  him,  that  handsome,  tall  fellow  over 
there,  who  is  watching  me,  for  it  is  me  that  he  is 
looking  at  ?  He  will  come  into  our  box  directly 
this  act  is  over,  and  then  I  have  only  to  say,  'I 
have  decidad ;  there  is  my  hand ;  I  will  be  your 
wife,'  and  then  all  would  be  settled !  I  should  be 
Princess  !  Princess  E-omanelli !  Princess  Bettina  ! 
Bettina  Romanelli !  The  names  go  well  together ; 
they  sound  very  pretty.  Would  it  amuse  me  to 
be  a  Princess  ?  Yes  —  and  no  !  Amongst  all  the 
young  men  in  Paris  who  during  the  last  year  have 
run  after  my  money,  this  Prince  Romanelli  is  the 
one  who  pleases  me  best.  One  of  these  days  I 
must  make  up  my  mind  to  marry.  I  think  he 
loves  me.  Yes,  but  the  question  is,  do  I  love 
him  ?  No,  I  don't  think  I  do,  and  I  should  so 
much  like  to  love  —  so  much,  so  much  !  " 

At  the  precise  moment  when  these  reflections  were 
passing  through  Bettina's  pretty  head,  Jean,  alone 
in-  his  study,  seated  before  his  desk  with  a  great 
book  under  the  shade  of  his  lamp,  looked  through, 
and  took  notes  of,  the  campaigns  at  Turenne.  He 
had  been  directed  to  give  a  course  of  instruction  to 
the  non-commissioned  officers  of  the  regiment,  and 
was  prudently  preparing  his  lesson  for  the  next 
day. 

But  in  the  midst  of  his  notes  — iSTordlingen,  1645; 
les  Dunes,  1658 ;  Mulhausen  and  Turckheim,  1674- 
1675  —  he  suddenly  perceived  (Jean  did  not  draw 
very  badly)  a  sketch,  a  woman's  portrait,  which 


THE  ABB^   CON  STAN  TIN.  81 

all  at  once  appeared  under  his  pen.  What  was 
she  doing  there,  in  the  middle  of  Turenne's  vic- 
tories, this  pretty  little  woman  ?  And  then  who 
was  she  —  Mrs.  Scott  or  Miss  Percival  ?  How 
could  he  tell  ?  They  resembled  each  other  so 
much  ;  and  laboriously,  Jean  returned  to  the  his- 
tory of  the  campaigns  of  Turenne. 

And  at  the  same  moment,  the  Abbe  Constantin, 
on  his  knees  before  his  little  wooden  bedstead, 
called  down,  with  all  the  strength  of  his  soul,  the 
blessings  of  Heaven  on  the  two  women  through 
whose  bounty  he  had  passed  such  a  sweet  and 
happy  day.  He  prayed  God  to  bless  Mrs.  Scott  in 
her  children,  and  to  give  to  Miss  Percival  a  hus- 
band after  her  own  heart. 


CHAPTER  V. 


Formerly  Paris  belonged  to  the  Parisians,  and 
that  at  no  very  remote  period  —  thirty  or  forty 
years  ago.  At  that  epoch  the  French  were  the 
masters  of  Paris,  as  the  English  are  the  masters  of 
London,  the  Spaniards  of  Madrid,  and  the  Russians 
of  St.  Petersburg.  Those  times  are  no  more.  Other 
countries  still  have  their  frontiers ;  there  are  now 
none  to  France.  Paris  has  become  an  immense 
Babel,  a  universal  and  international  city.  Foreign- 
ers do  not  only  come  to  visit  Paris ;  they  come 
there  to  live.  At  the  present  day  we  have  in  Paris 
a  Russian  colony,  a  Spanish  colony,  a  Levantine 
colony,  an  American  colony.  The  foreigners  have 
already  conquered  from  us  the  greater  part  of  the 
82 


T3E  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  83 

Champs-^filysees  and  the  Boulevard  Malesherbes ; 
they  advance,  they  extend  their  outworks ;  we  re- 
treat, pressed  back  by  the  invaders ;  we  are  obliged 
to  expatriate  ourselves.  We  have  begun  to  found 
Parisian  colonies  in  the  plains  of  Passy,  in  the 
plain  of  Monceau,  in  quarters  which  formerly  were 
not  Paris  at  all,  and  which  are  not  quite  even  now. 
Amongst  the  foreign  colonies,  the  richest,  the  most 
populous,  the  most  brilliant,  is  the  American 
colony.  There  is  a  moment  when  an  American 
feels  himself  rich  enough,  a  Frenchman  never.  The 
American  then  stops,  draws  breath,  and  while  still 
husbanding  the  capital,  no  longer  spares  the  in- 
come. He  knows  how  to  spend ;  the  Frenchman 
knows  only  how  to  save. 

The  Frenchman  has  only  one  real  luxury  —  his 
revolutions.  Prudently  and  wisely  he  reserves 
himself  for  them,  knowing  well  that  they  will  cost 
France  dear,  but  that,  at  the  same  time,  they  will 
furnish  the  opportunity  for  advantageous  invest- 
ments.    The  Frenchman  says  to  himself  — 

"  Let  us  hoard  !  let  vis  hoard !  let  us  hoard  ! 
Some  of  these  mornings  there  will  be  a  revolution, 
which  will  make  the  five  per  cents,  fall  fifty  or 
sixty  francs.  I  will  buy  then.  Since  revolutions 
are  inevitable,  let  us  try  at  least  to  make  them 
profitable." 

They  are  always  talking  about  the  people  who 
are  ruined  by  revolutions,  but  perhaps  the  number 
of  those  enriched  by  revolutions  is  still  greater. 


84  THE  ABBlS   CONSTANTIN. 

The  Americans  experience  the  attraction  of  Paris 
very  strongly.  There  is  no  town  in  the  world  where 
it  is  easier  or  more  agreeable  to  spend  a  great  deal 
of  money.  For  many  reasons,  both  of  race  and 
origin,  this  attraction  exercised  over  Mrs,  Scott  and 
Miss  Percival  a  very  remarkable  power. 

The  most  French  of  our  colonies  is  Canada,  which 
is  no  longer  ours.  The  recollection  of  their  first 
home  has  been  preserved  faithfully  and  tenderly  in 
the  hearts  of  the  emigrants  to  Montreal  and  Quebec. 
Suzie  Percival  had  received  from  her  mother  an 
entirely  French  education,  and  she  had  brought  up 
her  sister  in  the  same  love  of  our  country.  The 
two  sisters  felt  themselves  Frenchwomen ;  still 
better,  Parisians.  As  soon  as  the  avalanche  of  dol- 
lars had  descended  upon  them,  the  same  desire 
seized  them  both  —  to  come  and  live  in  Paris.  They 
demanded  France  as  if  it  had  been  their  fatherland. 
Mr.  Scott  made  some  opposition. 

"  If  I  go  away  from  here,"  he  said,  "  your  in- 
comes will  suffer." 

"  What  does  that  matter  ?  "  replied  Suzie.  "We 
are  rich  —  too  rich.  Do  let  us  go.  We  shall  be  so 
happy,  so  delighted !  " 

Mr.  Scott  allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded,  and 
at  the  beginning  of  January,  1880,  Suzie  wrote  the 
following  letter  to  her  friend,  Katie  Norton,  who 
had  lived  in  Paris  for  some  years  : — 

"  Victory  !  It  is  decided  !  liichard  has  con- 
sented.    I   shall   arrive   in   April,   and   become   a. 


THE  ABBIS    CONSTANTIN.  85 

Frenchwoman  again.  You  offered  to  undertake  all 
the  preparations  for  our  settlement  in  Paris.  I  am 
horribly  presuming — I  accept!  When  I  arrive  in 
Paris,  I  should  like  to  be  able  to  enjoy  Paris,  and 
not  be  obliged  to  lose  my  first  month  in  running 
after  upholsterers,  coach-builders,  horse-dealers.  I 
should  like,  on  arriving  at  the  railway  station,  to 
find  awaiting  me  my  carriage,  my  coachman,  my 
horses.  That  very  day  I  should  like  you  to  dine 
with  me  at  my  home.  Hire  or  buy  a  mansion,  en- 
gage the  servants,  choose  the  horses,  the  carriages, 
the  liveries.  I  depend  entirely  upon  you.  As  long 
as  the  liveries  are  blue,  that  is  the  only  point.  This 
line  is  added  at  the  request  of  Bettina. 

"  We  shall  only  bring  seven  persons  with  us. 
Richard  will  have  his  valet,  Bettina  and  I  two 
ladies'  maids ;  then  there  are  the  two  governesses 
for  the  children,  and,  besides  these,  two  boys,  Toby 
and  Bobby,  who  ride  to  perfection.  We  should 
never  find  in  Paris  such  a  perfect  pair. 

"Everything  else,  people  and  things,  we  shall 
leave  in  Kew  York.  No,  not  quite  everything ;  I 
had  forgotten  four  little  ponies,  four  little  gems, 
black  as  ink.  We  have  not  the  heart  to  leave  them; 
we  shall  drive  them  in  a  phaeton  ;  it  is  delightful. 
Both  Bettina  and  I  drive  four-in-hand  very  well. 
Ladies  can  drive  four-in-hand  in  the  'Bois'  very 
early  in  the  morning,  can't  tliey  ?  Here  it  is  quite 
possible. 

"Above   all,   my   dear    Katie,    do   not  consider 


86  TEE  ABB^  CONSTANTIN. 

money.  Be  as  extravagant  as  you  like,  that  is  all 
I  ask." 

The  same  day  that  Mrs.  Norton  received  this 
letter  witnessed  the  failure  of  a  certain  Garneville. 
He  was  a  great  speculator  who  had  been  on  a  false 
scent.  Stocks  had  fallen  just  when  he  had  expected 
a  rise.  This  Garneville  had,  six  weeks  before,  in- 
stalled himself  in  a  brand  new  house,  which  had  no 
other  fault  than  a  too  startling  magnificence. 

Mrs.  Norton  signed  an  agreement — one  hundred 
thousand  francs  a  year,  with  the  option  of  buying 
house  and  furniture  for  two  millions  during  the 
first  year  of  possession.  A  famous  upholsterer 
undertook  to  correct  and  subdue  the  exaggerated 
splendour  of  a  loud  and  gorgeous  luxury. 

That  done,  Mrs.  Scott's  friend  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  lay  her  hand  on  two  of  those  eminent  ar- 
tists without  whom  the  routine  of  a  great  house 
can  neither  be  established  nor  carried  on.  The 
first,  a  chef  oi  the  first  rank,  who  had  just  left  an 
ancient  mansion  of  the  Faubourg  St-Germain,  to 
his  great  regret,  for  he  had  aristocratic  inclina- 
tions. 

"Never,"  said  he  to  Mrs,  Norton,  "never  would 
I  have  left  the  service  of  Madame  la  Duchesse  if 
she  had  kept  up  her  establishment  on  the  same 
footing  as  formerly ;  but  Madame  la  Duchesse  has 
four  children — two  sons  who  have  run  through  a 
good  deal,  and  two  daughters  who  will  soon  be  of 
an  age  to   marry ;  they  must  have  their  dowries. 


THE  abbjS  constantin.  87 

Therefore,  Madame  la  Duchesse  is  obliged  to  draw 
in  a  little,  and  the  house  is  no  longer  important 
enough  for  me." 

This  distinguished  character,  of  course,  made  his 
conditions.  Though  excessive,  they  did  not  alarm 
Mrs.  Norton,  who  knew  that  he  was  a  man  of  the 
most  serious  merit,  but  he,  before  deciding,  asked 
permission  to  telegraph  to  New  York.  He  wished 
to  make  certain  inquiries.  The  reply  was  favour- 
able ;  he  accepted. 

The  second  great  artist  was  a  stud-groom  of  the 
rarest  and  highest  capacity,  who  was  just  about  to 
retire  after  having  made  his  fortune.  He  con- 
sented, however,  to  organise  the  stables  for  Mrs. 
Scott.  It  was  thoroughly  understood  that  he  should 
have  every  liberty  in  purchasing  the  horses,  that 
he  should  wear  no  livery,  that  he  should  choose  the 
coachmen,  the  grooms,  and  everyone  connected  with 
the  stables,  that  he  should  never  have  less  than 
fifteen  horses  in  the  stables,  that  no  bargain  should 
be  made  with  the  coach-builder  or  saddler  without 
his  intervention,  and  that  he  should  never  mount 
the  box,  except  early  in  the  morning,  in  plain 
clothes,  to  give  lessons  in  driving  to  the  ladies  and 
children  if  necessary. 

The  cook  took  possession  of  his  stores,  and  the 
stud-groom  of  his  stables.  Everything  else  was 
only  a  question  of  money,  and  with  regard  to  this 
Mrs.  Norton  made  full  use  of  her  extensive  powers. 
She  acted  in  conformity  with  the  instructions  she 


88  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

had  received.  In  the  short  space  of  two  months 
she  performed  prodigies,  and  that  is  how,  when,  on 
the  loth  of  April,  1880,  Mr.  Scott,  Suzie,  and 
IJettina  alighted  from  the  mail  train  from  Havre, 
at  half-past  four  in  the  afternoon,  they  found  Mrs. 
Norton  at  the  station  of  St-Lazare,  who  said  — 

"  Your  caleche  is  there  in  the  yard ;  behind  it  is 
a  landau  for  the  children ;  and  behind  the  landau 
is  an  omnibus  for  the  servants.  The  three  carriages 
bear  your  monogram,  are  driven  by  your  coachmen, 
and  drawn  by  your  horses.  Your  address  is  24, 
Rue  Murillo,  and  here  is  the  menu  of  your  dinner 
to-night.  You  invited  me  two  months  ago ;  I  ac- 
cept, and  will  even  take  the  liberty  of  bringing  a 
dozen  friends  with  me.  I  shall  furnish  everything, 
even  the  guests.  But  do  not  be  alarmed ;  you 
know  them  all ;  they  are  mutual  friends,  and  this 
evening  we  shall  be  able  to  judge  of  the  merits  of 
your  cook." 

The  first  Parisian  who  had  the  honour  and 
pleasure  of  paying  homage  to  the  beauty  of  Mrs. 
Scott  and  Miss  Percival  was  a  little  "  marmiton  " 
of  fifteen  years  old,  who  stood  there  in  his  white 
clothes,  his  wicker  basket  on  his  head,  at  the  mo- 
ment when  Mrs.  Scott's  carriage,  entangled  in  the 
multitude  of  vehicles,  slowly  worked  its  way  out  of 
the  station.  The  little  cook  stopped  short  on  the 
pavement,  opened  wide  his  eyes,  looked  at  the  two 
sisters  with  amazement,  and  boldly  cast  full  in  their 
faces  the  single  word  — 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  89 

"Mazette!" 

When  Madame  Recamier  saw  her  first  wrinkles 
and  first  grey  hairs,  she  said  to  a  friend  — 

"Ah  !  my  dear,  there  are  no  more  iUusions  left 
for  me  !  From  the  day  Avhen  I  saw  that  the  little 
chimney  sweeps  no  longer  turned  round  in  the 
street  to  look  at  me  I  understood  that  all  was 
over." 

The  opinion  of  the  confectioners'  boys  is,  in 
similar  cases,  of  equal  value  with  the  opinion  of 
the  little  chimney  sweeps.  All  was  not  over  for 
Suzie  and  Bettina;  on  the  contrary,  all  was  only 
beginning. 

Five  minutes  later,  Mrs.  Scott's  carriage  was 
ascending  the  Boulevard  Haussmann  to  the  slow 
and  measured  trot  of  a  pair  of  admirable  horses. 
Paris  counted  two  Parisians  the  more. 

The  success  of  Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival  was 
immediate,  decisive,  like  a  flash  of  lightning.  The 
beauties  of  Paris  are  not  classed  and  catalogued 
like  the  beauties  of  London ;  they  do  not  publish 
their  portraits  in  the  illustrated  papers,  or  allow 
their  photographs  to  be  sold  at  the  stationers'. 
However,  there  is  always  a  little  staff,  consisting  of 
a  score  of  women,  who  represent  the  grace,  and 
charm,  and  beauty  of  Paris,  which  women,  after 
ten  or  twelve  years'  service,  pass  into  the  reserve, 
just  like  the  old  generals.  Suzie  and  Bettina  im- 
mediately became  part  of  this  little  staff.  It  was 
an  affair  of  four-and-twenty  hours  —  of  less  than 


90  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

four-and-twenty  hours,  for  all  passed  between  eight 
in  the  morning  and  midnight  the  day  after  their 
arrival  in  Paris. 

Imagine  a  sort  of  little  "/eerie,"  in  three  acts,  of 
which  the  success  increases  from  tableau  to  tableau. 

1st.  A  ride  at  ten  in  the  morning  in  the  Bois, 
with  the  two  marvellous  grooms  imported  from 
America. 

2nd.  A  walk  at  six  o'clock  in  the  "Allee  des 
Acacias." 

3rd.  An  appearance  at  the  Opera  at  ten  in  the 
evening  in  Mrs.  Norton's  box. 

The  two  novelties  were  immediately  remarked, 
and  appreciated  as  they  deserved  to  be,  by  the 
thirty  or  forty  persons  who  constitute  a  sort  of 
mysterious  tribunal,  and  who,  in  the  name  of  all 
Paris,  pass  sentences  beyond  appeal.  These  thirty 
or  forty  persons  have  from  time  to  time  the  fancy 
to  declare  *'  delicious  "  some  woman  who  is  mani- 
festly ugly.  That  is  enough;  she  is  "delicious" 
from  that  moment. 

The  beauty  of  the  two  sisters  was  unquestion- 
able. In  the  morning  it  was  their  grace,  their  ele- 
gance, their  distinction  that  attracted  universal 
admiration ;  in  the  afternoon  it  was  declared  that 
their  walk  had  the  freedom  and  ease  of  two  young 
goddesses ;  in  the  evening  there  was  but  one  cry  of 
rapture  at  the  ideal  perfection  of  their  shoulders. 
From  that  moment  all  Paris  had  for  the  two  sisters 
the  eyes  of  the  little  pastry-cook  of  the  Rue  d'Am- 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  91 

sterdam ;  all  Paris  repeated  Ws  "  Mazette,"  though 
naturally  with  the  variations  and  developments 
imposed  by  the  usages  of  the  world. 

Mrs.  Scott's  drawing-room  immediately  became 
the  fashion.  The  habitues  of  three  or  four  great 
American  houses  transferred  themselves  in  a  body 
to  the  Scotts,  who  had  three  hundred  persons  at 
their  first  Wednesday.  Their  circle  rapidly  in- 
creased; there  was  a  little  of  everything  to  be 
found  in  their  set  —  Americans,  Spaniards,  Italians, 
Hungarians,  Russians,  and  even  Parisians. 

When  she  had  related  her  history  to  the  Abbe 
Constantin,  Mrs.  Scott  had  not  told  all  —  one  never 
does  tell  all.  In  a  word,  she  was  a  coquette.  Mr. 
Scott  had  the  most  perfect  confidence  in  his  wife, 
and  left  her  entire  liberty.  He  showed  very  little ; 
he  was  an  honourable  man,  who  felt  a  vague  em- 
barrassment at  having  made  such  a  marriage,  at 
having  married  so  much  money.  Having  a  taste 
for  business,  he  had  great  pleasure  in  devoting 
himself  entirely  to  the  administering  of  the  two 
immense  fortunes  which  were  in  his  hands,  in  con- 
tinually increasing  them,  and  in  saying  every  year 
to  his  wife  and  sister-in-law  — 

"  You  are  still  richer  than  you  were  last  year ! " 

Not  content  with  watching  with  much  prudence 
and  ability  over  the  interests  which  he  had  left  in 
America,  he  launched  in  France  into  large  specula- 
tions, and  was  as  successful  in  Paris  as  he  had  been 
in  New  York.  In  order  to  make  money,  the  first 
thing  is  to  have  no  need  of  it. 


92  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

They  made  love  to  Mrs.  Scott  to  an  enormous 
extent ;  they  made  love  to  her  in  French,  in  Italian, 
in  English,  in  Spanish,  for  she  knew  those  four 
languages,  and  there  is  one  advantage  that  foreign- 
ers have  over  our  poor  Parisians  who  generally 
know  only  their  mother  tongue,  and  have  not  the 
resource  of  international  passions. 

Naturally  Mrs.  Scott  did  not  chase  her  adorers 
from  her  presence.  She  had  ten,  twenty,  thirty  at 
a  time.  No  one  could  boast  of  any  preference  ;  to 
all  she  opposed  the  same  amiable,  laughing,  joyous 
resistance.  It  was  clear  to  all  that  the  game 
amused  her,  and  that  she  did  not  for  a  moment 
take  it  seriously.  Mr.  Scott  never  felt  a  moment's 
anxiety,  and  he  was  perfectly  right.  More,  he  en- 
joyed his  wife's  successes ;  he  was  happy  in  seeing 
her  happy.  He  loved  her  dearly  —  a  little  more 
than  she  loved  him.  She  loved  him  very  much, 
and  that  was  all.  There  is  a  great  difference  be- 
tween dearly  and  very  much  when  these  two  adverbs 
are  placed  after  the  verb  to  love. 

As  to  Bettina,  around  her  was  a  maddening 
whirl,  an  orgy  of  adulation  !  Such  fortune  !  such 
beauty  !  Miss  Percival  arrived  in  Paris  on  the  15th 
of  April ;  a  fortnight  had  not  passed  before  the 
offers  of  marriage  began  to  pour  upon  her.  In  the 
course  of  that  first  year  she  might,  had  she  wished 
it,  have  been  married  thirty-four  times,  and  to  what 
a  variety  of  suitors  ! 

They  asked  her  hand  for  a  young  exile,  who, 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  93 

under  certain  circumstances,  might  be  called  to  as- 
cend a  throne  —  a  very  small  one,  it  is  true,  but  a 
throne  nevertheless. 

They  asked  her  hand  for  a  young  Duke,  who 
would  make  a  great  figure  at  Court  when  France  — 
as  was  inevitable  —  should  recognise  her  errors, 
and  bow  down  before  her  legitimate  masters. 

They  asked  her  hand  for  a  young  Prince,  who 
would  have  a  place  on  the  steps  of  the  throne  when 
France  —  as  was  inevitable  —  should  again  knit  to- 
gether the  chain  of  tlie  Napoleonic  traditions. 

They  asked  lier  hand  for  a  young  Republican 
deputy,  who  had  just  made  a  most  brilliant  debut 
in  the  Chamber,  and  for  whom  the  futnre  reserved 
the  most  splendid  destiny,  for  the  Republic  was 
now  established  in  France  on  the  most  indestructi- 
ble basis. 

They  asked  her  hand  for  a  young  Spaniard  of 
the  purest  lineage,  and  she  was  given  to  understand 
that  the  contrat  would  be  signed  in  the  palace  of  a 
queen  who  does  not  live  far  from  the  Arc  de  Tri^ 
omphe.  Besides,  one  can  find  her  address  in  the 
"Almanach  Bottin,"  for  at  the  present  day  there 
are  queens  who  have  their  address  in  Bottin  be- 
tween an  attorney  and  a  druggist;  it  is  only  the 
kings  of  France  who  no  longer  live  in  France. 

They  asked  her  hand  for  the  son  of  a  peer  of 
England,  and  for  the  son  of  a  member  of  the  highest 
Viennese  aristocracy  ;  for  the  son  of  a  Parisian 
banker,    and   for  the   sou   of   a  Russian  ambassa- 


94  THE  ABBE   CON  ST  AN  TIN. 

dor;  for  a  Hungarian  Count,  and  for  an  Italian 
Prince ;  and  also  for  various  excellent  young  men 
who  were  nothing  and  had  nothing  —  neither  name 
nor  fortune  ;  but  Bettina  had  granted  thera  a  waltz, 
and,  believing  themselves  irresistible,  they  hoped 
that  they  had  caused  a  flutter  of  that  little  heart. 

But  up  to  the  present  moment  nothing  had 
touched  that  little  heart,  and  the  reply  had  been  the 
same  to  all  —  "  No  !  no  !  "  again  "  No  !  "  always 
"  No  ! " 

Some  days  after  that  performance  of  Aida,  the 
two  sisters  had  a  rather  long  conversation  on  this 
great,  this  eternal  question  of  marriage.  A.  certain 
name  had  been  pronounced  by  Mrs.  Scott  which 
had  pr.ovoked  on  the  part  of  Miss  Percival  the 
most  decided  and  most  energetic  refusal,  and  Suzie 
had  laughingly  said  to  her  sister  — 

"  But,  Bettina,  you  will  be  obliged  to  end  by 
marrying." 

"  Yes,  certainly,  but  I  should  be  so  sorry  to  marry 
without  love.  It  seems  to  me  before  I  could 
resolve  to  do  such  a  thing  I  must  be  in  danger  of 
dying  an  old  maid,  and  I  am  not  yet  that." 

"No,  not  yet." 

"Let  us  wait,  let  us  wait." 

"  Let  us  wait.  But  among  all  these  lovers  wliom 
you  have  been  dragging  after  you  for  the  last  year, 
there  have  been  some  very  nice,  very  amiable,  and 
it  is  really  a  little  strange  if  none  of  them  —  " 

"None,  my  Suzie,  none,  absolutely  none.     Why 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  95 

should  I  not  tell  you  the  truth  ?  Is  it  their  fault  ? 
Have  they  gone  unskilfully  to  work  ?  Could  they, 
in  managing  better,  have  found  the  way  to  my 
heart  ?  or  is  the  fault  in  me  ?  Is  it,  perhaps,  that 
the  way  to  my  heart  is  a  steep,  rocky,  inaccessible 
way,  by  which  no  one  will  ever  pass  ?  Am  I  a 
horrid  little  creature,  arid,  cold,  and  condemned 
never  to  love  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  so." 

"  Neither  do  I,  but  up  to  the  present  time  that  is 
my  history.  No,  I  have  never  felt  anything  which 
resembled  love.  You  are  laughing,  and  I  can 
guess  why.  You  are  saying  to  yourself,  *  A  little 
girl  like  that  pretending  to  know  what  love  is  ! ' 
You  are  right ;  I  do  not  know,  but  I  have  a  pretty 
good  idea.  To  love  —  is  it  not  to  prefer  to  all  in 
the  world  one  certain  person  ?  " 

"Yes;  it  is  really  that." 

"  Is  it  not  never  to  weary  of  seeing  that  person, 
or  of  hearing  him?  Is  it  not  to  cease  to  live  when 
he  is  not  there,  and  to  immediately  begin  to  revive 
when  he  reappears  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  but  this  is  romantic  love." 

"Well,  that  is  the  love  of  which  I  dream,  and 
that  is  the  love  which  does  not  come  —  not  at  all 
till  now ;  and  yet  that  person  preferred  by  me  to 
all  and  everything  does  exist.  Do  you  know  who 
it  is  ?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not  know ;  I  do  not  know,  but  I  have 
a  little  suspicion." 


96  THE  ABBJS   con  STAN  tin. 

''Yes,  it  is  you,  my  dearest,  and  it  is  perhaps 
you,  naughty  sister,  who  make  me  so  insensible 
and  cruel  on  this  point.  I  love  you  too  much  ;  you 
fill  my  heart ;  you  have  occupied  it  entirely  ;  there 
is  no  room  for  anyone  else.  Prefer  anyone  to  you  ! 
love  anyone  more  than  you !  That  will  never, 
never  be ! " 

"  Oh  !  yes,  it  will." 

"  Oh !  no.  Love  differently,  perhaps,  but  more 
—  no.  He  must  not  count  upon  that,  this  gentleman 
whom  I  expect,  and  who  does  not  arrive." 

"  Do  not  be  afraid,  my  Betty ;  there  is  room  in 
your  heart  for  all  whom  you  should  love  — for  your 
husband,  for  your  children,  and  that  without  your 
old  sister  losing  anything.  The  heart  is  very  little, 
but  it  is  also  very  large." 

Bettina  tenderly  embraced  her  sister  ;  then,  rest- 
ing her  head  coaxingly  on  Suzie's  shoulder,  she 
said  — 

"If,  however,  you  are  tired  of  keeping  me  with 
you,  if  you  are  in  a  hurry  to  get  rid  of  me,  do  you 
know  what  I  will  do  ?  I  will  put  the  names  of  two 
of  these  gentlemen  in  a  basket,  and  draw  lots. 
There  are  two  who  at  the  last  extremity  would  not 
be  absolutely  disagreeable." 

"  Which  two  ?  " 

"  Guess." 

"  Prince  Eomanelli." 

"  For  one  !     And  the  other  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  de  Montessan." 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  97 

"  Those  are  the  two  !  It  is  just  that.  Those 
two  wouki  be  acceptable,  but  only  acceptable,  and 
that  is  not  enough." 

This  is  why  Bettina  awaited  with  extreme  im- 
patience the  day  when  they  should  leave  Paris,  and 
take  up  their  abode  in  Longueval.  She  was  a  little 
tired  of  so  much  pleasure,  so  much  success,  so  many 
otfers  of  marriage.  The  whirlpool  of  Parisian  gai- 
ety had  seized  her  on  her  arrival,  and  would  not 
let  her  go,  not  for  one  hour  of  halt  or  rest.  She 
felt  the  need  of  being  given  up  to  herself  for  a  few 
days,  to  herself  alone,  to  consult  and  question  her- 
self at  her  leisure,  in  the  complete  solitude  of  the 
country  —  in  a  word,  to  belong  to  herself  again. 

Was  not  Bettina  all  sprightly  and  joyous  when,  on 
the  14th  of  June,  they  took  the  train  for  Longueval  ? 
As  soon  as  she  was  alone  in  a  coupe  with  her  sister  — 

"  Ah  !  "  she  cried,  "  how  happy  I  am  !  Let  us 
breathe  a  little,  quite  alone,  j^ou  and  me,  for  a  few 
days.  The  J^ortons  and  Turners  do  not  come  till 
the  25th,  do  they  ?  " 

"  No,  not  till  the  25th." 

''  We  will  pass  our  lives  riding  or  driving  in  the 
woods,  in  the  fields.  Ten  days  of  liberty  !  And 
during  those  ten  days  no  moi'e  lovers,  no  more 
lovers  !  And  all  those  lovers,  with  what  are  they 
in  love,  with  me  or  my  money  ?  That  is  the 
mystery,  the  unfathomable  mystery." 

The  engine  whistled ;  the  train  put  itself  slowly 
into  motion.     A  wild  idea  entered  Bettina's  head. 


98  THE  ABBE    CONSTANTIN. 

She  leant  out  of  the  window  and  cried,  accompany- 
ing her  words  with  a  little  wave  of  the  hand  — 

"  Good-bye,  my  lovers,  good-bye  !  " 

Then  she  threw  herself  suddenly  into  a  corner  of 
the  coupe  with  a  hearty  burst  of  lau.ghter. 

"  Oh !  Suzie,  Suzie  !  " 

''  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  A  man  with  a  red  flag  in  his  hand ;  he  saw  me, 
and  he  looked  so  astonished." 

"  You  are  so  irrational !  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  true,  to  have  called  out  of  the  window 
like  that,  but  not  to  be  happy  at  thinking  that  we 
are  going  to  live  alone,  en  ga7'gonsJ' 

"  Alone  !  alone  !  Not  exactly  that.  To  begin 
with,  we  shall  liave  two  people  to  dinner  to-night." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  true.  But  those  two  people,  I 
shall  not  be  at  all  sorry  to  see  them  again.  Yes, 
I  shall  be  very  pleased  to  see  the  old  Cur6  again, 
but  especially  the  young  officer." 

"  What !  especially  ?  " 

''  Certainly ;  because  what  the  lawyer  from  Sou- 
vigny  told  us  the  other  day  is  so  touching,  and 
what  the  great  artilleryman  did  when  he  was  quite 
little  was  so  good,  so  good,  that  this  evening  I  shall 
seek  for  an  opportunity  of  telling  him  what  I  think 
of  it,  and  I  shall  find  one." 

Then  Bettina,  abruptly  changing  the  course  of 
the  conversation,  continued  — 

"  Did  they  send  the  telegram  yesterday  to  Ed- 
wards abou.t  the  ponies  ?  " 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  99 

"  Yes,  yesterday  before  dinner." 

"Oh  !  you  will  let  me  drive  them  up  to  the  house. 
It  will  be  such  fun  to  go  through  the  town,  and  to 
drive  up  at  full  speed  into  the  court  in  front  of  the 
entrance.     Tell  me,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly,  you  shall  drive  the  ponies." 

"  Oh  !  how  nice  of  you,  Suzie  ?  " 

Edwards  was  the  stud-groom.  He  had  arrived 
at  Longueval  three  days  before.  He  deigned  to 
come  himself  to  meet  Mrs.  Scott  and  j\Iiss  Percival. 
He  brought  the  phaeton  drawn  by  the  four  black 
ponies.  He  was  waiting  at  the  station.  The  pas- 
sage of  the  ponies  througli  the  principal  street  of 
the  town  had  made  a  sensation.  The  population 
inished  out  of  their  houses,  and  asked  eagerly  — 

"  What  is  it  ?     What  can  it  be  ?  " 

Some  ventured  the  opinion  — 

"  It  is,  perhaps,  a  travelling  circus." 

But  exclamations  arose  on  all  sides  — 

"  You  did  not  notice  the  style  of  it  —  the  carriage 
and  the  harness  shining  like  gold,  and  the  little 
horses  with  their  white  rosettes  on  each  side  of  the 
head." 

The  crowd  collected  around  the  station,  and  those 
who  were  curious  learnt  that  they  were  going  to 
witness  the  arrival  of  the  new  owners  of  Longueval. 
They  were  slightly  disenchanted  when  the  two  sis- 
ters appeared,  very  pretty,  but  in  very  simple 
travelling  costumes.  These  good  people  had  almost 
expected  the  apparition  of  two  princesses  out  of 


100  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

fairy  tales,  clad  in  silk  and  brocade,  sparkling  with 
rubies  and  diamonds.  But  they  opened  wide  their 
eyes  when  they  saw  Bettina  walk  slowly  round  the 
four  ponies,  caressing  one  after  the  other  lightly 
with  her  hand,  and  examining  all  the  details  of  the 
team  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur. 

Having  made  her  inspection,  Bettina,  without  the 
least  hurry,  drew  off  her  long  Swedish  gloves,  and 
replaced  them  by  a  pair  of  dog-skin  which  she  took 
from  the  pocket  of  the  carriage  apron.  Then  she 
slipped  on  to  the  box  in  the  place  of  Edwards,  re- 
ceiving from  him  the  reins  and  whip  with  extreme 
dexterity,  without  allowing  the  already  excited 
horses  to  perceive  that  they  had  changed  hands. 

Mrs.  Scott  seated  herself  beside  her  sister.  The 
ponies  pranced,  curvetted,  and  threatened  to  rear. 

"  Be  very  careful,  miss,"  said  Edwards ;  "  the 
ponies  are  very  fresh  to-day." 

"Do  not  be  afraid,"  replied  Bettina.  "I  know 
them." 

Miss  Percival  had  a  hand  at  once  very  firm,  very 
light,  and  very  just.  She  held  in  the  ponies  for  a 
few  moments,  forcing  them  to  keep  their  own 
places ;  then,  waving  the  long  thong  of  her  whip 
round  the  leaders,  she  started  her  little  team  at 
once,  with  incomparable  skill,  and  left  the  station 
with  an  air  of  triumph,  in  the  midst  of  a  long  mur- 
mur of  astonishment  and  admiration. 

The  trot  of  the  black  ponies  rang  on  the  little  oval 
paving  stones  of  Souvigny.    Bettina  held  them  well 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  101 

together  until  she  had  left  the  town,  but  as  soon  as 
she  saw  before  her  a  clear  mile  and  a  half  of  high 
road  —  almost  on  a  dead  level  —  she  let  them  gradu- 
ally increase  their  speed,  till  they  went  like  the  wind. 

"Oh!  how  happy  I  am,  Suzie!"  cried  she;  ''and 
we  shall  trot  and  gallop  all  alone  on  these  roads. 
Suzie,  would  you  like  to  drive  ?  It  is  such  a  de- 
light when  one  can  let  them  go  at  full  speed.  They 
are  so  spirited  and  so  gentle.    Come,  take  the  reins." 

"  No  ;  keep  them.  It  is  a  greater  pleasure  to  me 
to  see  you  happy." 

"  Oh !  as  to  that,  I  am  perfectly  happy.  I  do  like 
so  much  to  drive  four-in-hand  with  plenty  of  space 
before  me.  At  Paris,  even  in  the  morning,  I  did 
not  dare  to  any  longer.  They  looked  at  me  so,  it 
annoyed  me.    But  here  —  no  one !  no  one !  no  One  !  " 

At  the  moment  when  Bettina,  already  a  little 
intoxicated  with  the  bracing  air  and  liberty,  gave 
forth  triumphantly  these  three  exclamations,  "  No 
one  !  no  one  !  no  one  ! "  a  rider  appeared,  Avalking 
his  horse  in  the  direction  of  the  carriage.  It  was 
Paul  de  Lavardens.  He  had  been  watching  for 
more  than  an  hour  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the 
Americans  pass. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  Suzie  to  Bettina ; 
"  there  is  someone." 

"  A  peasant ;  they  don't  count ;  they  won't  ask 
me  to  marry  them." 

"  It  is  not  a  peasant  at  all.     Look  !  " 

Paul  de  Lavardens,  while  passing  the  carriage, 


102 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 


mcade  the  two  sisters  a  highly  correct  bow,  from 
which  one  at  once  scented  the  Parisian. 

The  ponies  were  going  at  such  a  rate  that  the 
meeting  was  over  like  a  flash  of  lightning. 

Bettina  cried  — 

"  Who  is  that  gentleman  who  has  just  bowed  to 
us?" 

"  I  had  scarcely  time  to  see,  but  I  seemed  to 
recognize  him." 

"  You  recognized  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  would  wager  that  I  have  seen  him 
at  our  house  this  winter." 

"  Heavens  !  if  it  should  be  one  of  the  thirty- 
four  !     Is  all  that  going  to  l)egin  again  ?  " 


J' 


CHAPTER    VI. 


That  same  day  at  half-past  seven  Jean  went  to 
fetch  the  Cure,  and  the  two  walked  together  up  to 
the  house.  During  the  last  month  a  perfect  army 
of  workmen  had  taken  possession  of  Longueval ; 
all  the  inns  in  the  village  were  making  their  for- 
tunes. Immense  furniture  waggons  brought  cargoes 
of  furniture  and  decorations  from  Paris.  Forty- 
eight  hours  before  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Scott,  Made- 
moiselle Marbeau,  the  post-mistress,  and  Madame 
Lormier,  the  mayoress,  had  wormed  themselves 
into  the  castle,  and  the  account  they  gave  of  the 
interior  turned  everyone's  head.  The  old  furniture 
had  disappeared,  banished  to  the  attics ;  one 
moved  amongst  a  perfect  accumulation  of  wonders, 

103 


104  THE  ABBlS   CONSTANTIN. 

And  the  stables  !  and  the  coach-hoiises  !  A  special 
train  had  brought  from  Paris,  under  the  high 
superintendence  of  Edwards,  a  dozen  carriages  — 
and  such  carriages!  Twenty  horses  —  and  such 
horses ! 

The  Abbe  Constantin  thought  he  knew  what 
luxury  was.  Once  a  year  he  dined  with  his 
bishop,  Monseigneur  Faubert,  a  rich  and  amiable 
prelate,  who  entertained  rather  largely.  The  Cure 
till  now  had  thought  that  there  was  nothing  in  the 
world  more  sumptuous  than  the  episcopal  palace  of 
Souvigny,  or  the  castles  of  Lavardens  and  Longue- 
val. 

He  began  to  understand,  from  what  he  was  told 
of  the  new  splendours  of  Longueval,  that  the  lux- 
ury of  the  great  houses  of  the  present  day  must 
surpass  to  a  singular  degree  the  sober  and  severe 
luxury  of  the  great  houses  of  former  times. 

As  soon  as  the  Cure  and  Jean  had  entered  the 
avenue  in  the  park  which  lead  to  the  house  — 

"  Look  !  Jean,"  said  the  Cure ;  "  what  a  change  ! 
All  this  part  of  the  park  used  to  be  quite  neg- 
lected, and  now  all  the  paths  are  gravelled  and 
raked.  I  shall  not  be  able  to  feel  myself  at  home 
as  I  used  to  do;  it  will  be  too  grand.  I  shall  not 
find  again  my  old  brown  velvet  easy  chair,  in 
which  I  so  often  fell  asleep  after  dinner,  and  if  I 
fall  asleep  this  evening  what  will  become  of  me  ? 
You  will  think  of  it,  Jean,  and  if  you  see  that  I 
begin  to  forget  myself,  you  will  come  behind  me 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  105 

and  pinch  my  arm  gently,  won't  you  ?  You  promise 
me?" 

"Certainly,  certainly,  I  promise  you." 

Jean  paid  but  slight  attention  to  the  conversation 
of  the  Cure.  He  felt  extremely  impatient  to  see  Mrs. 
Scott  and  Miss  Percival  again,  but  this  impatience 
was  mingled  with  very  keen  anxiety.  Would  he 
find  them  in  the  great  salon  at  Longueval  the  same 
as  he  had  seen  them  in  the  little  dining-room  at  the 
vicarage  ?  Perhaps,  instead  of  those  two  women, 
so  perfectly  simple  and  familiar,  amusing  them- 
selves with  this  little  improvised  dinner,  and  who 
the  very  first  day  had  treated  him  with  so  much 
grace  and  cordiality,  perhaps  would  he  find  two 
pretty  dolls — worldly,  elegant,  cold,  and  correct? 
Would  his  first  impression  be  effaced  ?  Would  it 
disappear  ?  or,  on  the  contrary,  would  the  impres- 
sion in  his  heart  become  still  sweeter  and  deeper? 

They  ascended  the  six  steps  at  the  entrance,  and 
were  received  in  the  hall  by  two  tall  footmen  with 
the  most  dignified  and  imposing  air.  This  hall  had 
formerly  been  a  vast,  frigid  apartment,  with  bare 
stone  walls.  These  walls  were  now  covered  with 
admirable  tapestry,  representing  mythological  sub- 
jects. The  Cure  dared  scarcely  glance  at  this 
taj)estry ;  it  was  enough  for  him  to  perceive 
that  the  goddesses  who  wandered  through  these 
shades  wore  costumes  of  antique  simplicity. 

One  of  the  footmen  opened  wide  the  folding 
doors  of  the  salon.     It  was  there  that  one  had  cren- 


106  THE  ABBE    CONSTANTIN. 

erally  found  the  old  IVIaiviuise,  on  the  right  of  the 
high  chimney-piece,  and  on  the  left  had  stood  the 
brown  velvet  easy  chair. 

No  brown  easy  chair  now !  That  old  relic  of  the 
Empire,  which  was  the  basis  of  the  arrangement  of 
the  salon,  had  been  replaced  by  a  marvellous  speci- 
men of  tapestry  of  the  end  of  the  last  century. 
Then  a  crowd  of  little  easy  chairs,  and  ottomans 
of  all  forms  and  all  colours,  were  scattered  here 
and  there  with  an  appearance  of  disorder  which 
was  the  perfection  of  art. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Scott  saw  the  Cure  and  Jean 
enter,  she  rose,  and  going  to  meet  them,  said  — 

"How  kind  of  you  to  come,  Monsieur  le  Cure, 
and  you  too.  Monsieur  Jean.  How  pleased  1  am 
to  see  you,  my  first,  my  only  friends  down  here  ! " 

Jean  breathed  again.     It  was  the  same  woman. 

"Will  you  allow  me,"  added  Mrs.  Scott,  to  "intro- 
duce my  children  to  you  ?  Harry  and  Bella,  come 
here." 

Harry  was  a  very  pretty  little  boy  of  six,  and 
Bella  a  very  charming  little  girl  of  five  years  old. 
They  had  their  mother's  large  dark  eyes,  and  her 
golden  hair. 

After  the  Cure  had  kissed  the  two  children, 
Harry,  who  was  looking  with  admiration  at  Jean's 
uniform,  said  to  his  mother  — 

"And  the  soldier,  mamma,  must  we  kiss  him  too  ?  " 

"  If  you  like,"  replied  Mrs.  Scott,  "  and  if  he 
will  allow  it." 


THE  ABB^  COUSIAIIIIN,  107 

A  moment  after  the  two  children  were  installed 
upon  Jean's  knees,  and  overwhelming  him  with 
questions. 

"  Are  you  an  officer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  an  officer." 

"  What  in  ?  " 

"  In  the  artillery." 

"  The  artillery !  Oh  !  you  are  one  of  the  men 
who  fire  the  cannons.  Oh !  how  I  should  like  to 
be  quite  near  when  they  tire  the  cannons  ! " 

"  Will  you  take  us  some  day  when  they  tire  the 
cannons  ?     Tell  me,  will  you  ?  " 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Scott  chatted  with  the  Cure, 
and  Jean,  while  replying  to  the  children's  ques- 
tions, looked  at  Mrs.  Scott.  She  wore  a  white 
muslin  dress,  but  the  muslin  disappeared  under  a 
complete  avalanche  of  little  flounces  of  Valen- 
ciennes. The  dress  was  cut  out  in  front  in  a  large 
square,  her  arms  were  bare  to  the  elbow,  a  large 
bouquet  of  red  roses  at  the  opening  of  her  dress,  a 
red  rose  tixed  in  her  hair,  with  a  diamond  agraffe 
—  nothing  more. 

Mrs.  Scott  suddenly  perceived  that  the  children 
had  taken  entire  possession  of  Jean,  and  ex- 
claimed — 

"  Oh !  I  beg  your  pardon.     Harry,  Bella  ! " 

"  Oh !  pray  let  them  stay  with  me." 

"  I  am  so  sorry  to  keep  you  waiting  for  dinner ; 
my  sister  is  not  down  yet.     Oh  !  here  she  is!" 

Bettina   entered.      The    same    dress    of    white 


108  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

muslin,  the  same  delicate  mass  of  lace,  the  same 
red  roses,  the  same  grace,  the  same  beauty,  and  the 
same  smiling,  amiable,  candid  manner. 

"  How  do  you  do.  Monsieur  le  Cure.  I  am  de- 
lighted to  see  you.  Have  you  pardoned  my  dread- 
ful intrusion  of  the  other  day  ?  " 

Then,  turning  towards  Jean  and  offering  hira  her 
hand  — 

"  How  do  you  do,  Monsieur  —  Monsieur  —  Oh  ! 
I  cannot  remember  your  name,  and  yet  we  seem  to 
be  already  old  friends.  Monsieur  —  " 

"  Jean  Reynaud." 

"Jean  Reynaud,  that  is  it.  How  do  you  do, 
Monsieur  Reynaud  ?  I  warn  you  faithfully  that 
when  we  really  are  old  friends  —  that  is  to  say,  in 
about  a  week  —  I  shall  call  you  Monsieur  Jean.  It 
is  a  pretty  name,  Jean." 

Up  to  the  moment  when  Bettina  appeared  Jean 
had  said  to  himself  — 

"  Mrs.  Scott  is  the  prettier  !  " 

When  he  felt  Bettina's  little  hand  slip  into  his 
arm,  and  when  she  turned  towards  him  her  delicious 
face,  he  said  — 

"  Miss  Percival  is  the  prettier  !  " 

But  his  perplexities  gathered  round  him  again 
when  he  was  seated  between  the  two  sisters.  If 
he  looked  to  the  right,  love  threatened  him  from 
that  direction,  and  if  he  looked  to  the  left,  the  dan- 
ger removed  immediately,  and  passed  to  the  left. 

Conversation  began,  easy,  animated,  confidential. 


THE  ABBI^   CONSTANTIN.  109 

The  two  sisters  were  charmed;  they  had  already 
walked  in  the  park ;  they  promised  themselves  a 
long  ride  in  the  forest  to-morrow.  Riding  was  their 
passion,  their  madness.  It  was  also  Jean's  passion, 
so  that  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour  they  begged  him 
to  join  them  the  next  day.  There  was  no  one  who 
knew  the  country  round  better  than  he  did ;  it  was 
his  native  place.  He  should  be  so  happy  to  do  the 
honours  of  it,  and  to  show  them  numbers  of  delight- 
ful little  spots  which,  without  him,  they  would  never 
discover. 

"  Do  you  ride  every  day  ?  "  asked  Bettina. 

"Every  day,  and  sometimes  twice.  In  the  morn- 
ing I  am  on  duty,  and  in  the  evening  I  ride  for  my 
own  pleasure." 

"  Early  in  the  morning  ?  " 

"  At  half-past  five." 

''  At  half-past  five  every  morning  ?  " 

"Yes,  except  Sunday." 

"  Then  you  get  up !  —  " 

"  At  half-past  four." 

«  And  is  it  light  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  just  now,  broad  daylight." 

"  To  get  up  at  half-past  four  is  admirable ;  we 
often  finish  our  day  just  when  yours  is  beginning. 
And  are  you  fond  of  your  profession  ?  " 

"Very.  It  is  an  excellent  thing  to  have  one's  life 
plain  before  one,  with  exact  and  definite  duties. 

"  And  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Scott,  "  not  to  be  one's  own 
master  —  to  be  always  obliged  to  obey  ! " 


110  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

"  That  is  perhaps  what  suits  me  best ;  there  is 
nothing  easier  than  to  obey,  and  then  to  learn  to 
obey  is  the  only  way  of  learning  to  command." 

''Ah  !  since  you  say  so,  it  must  be  true." 

"Yes,  no  doubt,"  added  the  Cure  ;  "but  he  does 
not  tell  you  that  he  is  the  most  distinguished  officer 
in  his  regiment,  that  —  " 

"  Oh !  pray  do  not." 

The  Cure,  in  spite  of  the  resistance  of  Jean,  was 
about  to  launch  into  a  panegyric  on  his  godson, 
when  Bettina,  interposing,  said  — 

"  It  is  unnecessary.  Monsieur  le  Cure,  do  not  say 
anything,  we  know  already  all  that  you  would  tell 
us,  we  have  been  so  indiscreet  as  to  make  inquiries 
about  Monsieur  —  Oh!  I  was  just  going  to  say 
Monsieur  Jean  —  about  Monsieur  Reynaud.  Well, 
the  information  we  received  was  excellent." 

"I  am  curious  to  know,"  said  Jean. 

"  Nothing !  nothing  !  you  shall  know  nothing.  I 
do  not  wish  to  make  you  blush,  and  you  would  be 
obliged  to  blush." 

Then  turning  towards  the  Cure,  "  And  about  you, 
too,  Monsieur  I'Abbe,  we  have  had  some  informa- 
tion.    It  appears  that  you  are  a  saint." 

"  Oh  !  as  to  that,  it  is  perfectly  true,"  cried  Jean. 

It  was  the  Cure  this  time  who  cut  short  the 
eloquence  of  Jean.  Dinner  was  almost  over.  The 
old  priest  had  not  got  through  this  dinner  without 
experiencing  many  emotions.  They  had  repeatedly 
presented   to   him  complicated   and  scientific  con- 


THE  ABB£   CONSTANTIN.  Ill 

structions  upon  which  he  had  only  ventured  with  a 
trembling  hand.  He  was  afraid  of  seeing  the 
whole  crumble  beneath  his  touch  ;  the  trembling 
castles  of  jelly,  the  pyramids  of  truffles,  the  for- 
tresses of  cream,  the  bastions  of  pastry,  the  rocks  of 
ice.  Otherwise  the  Abbe  Constantin  dined  with  an 
excellent  appetite,  and  did  not  recoil  before  two  or 
three  glasses  of  champagne.  He  was  no  foe  to 
good  cheer ;  perfection  is  not  of  this  world  ;  and  if 
gormandising  were,  as  they  say,  a  cardinal  sin,  how 
many  good  priests  would  be  damned ! 

Coffee  was  served  on  the  terrace  in  front  of  the 
house  ;  in  the  distance  was  heard  the  harsh  voice  of 
the  old  village  clock  striking  nine.  Woods  and 
fields  were  slumbering;  the  avenues  in  the  park 
showed  only  as  long,  undulating,  and  undecided 
lines.  The  moon  slowly  rose  over  the  tops  of  the 
great  trees. 

Bettina  took  a  box  of  cigars  from  the  table.  "  Do 
you  smoke  ?  "  said  she. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Percival." 

"Take  one.  Monsieur  Jean.  It  can't  be  helped, 
I  have  said  it.  Take  one  —  but  no,  listen  to  me 
first." 

And  speaking  in  a  low  voice  while  offering  him 
the  box  of  cigars. 

"  It  is  getting  dark,  now  you  may  blush  at  your 
ease.  I  will  tell  you  what  I  did  not  say  at  dinner. 
An  old  lawyer  in  Souvigny,  who  was  your  guardian, 
came  to  see  my  sister  in  Paris  about  the  payment 


il2  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTI]^. 

for  the  place ;  he  told  us  what  you  did  after  your 
father's  death,  when  you  were  only  a  child,  what 
you  did  for  that  poor  mother,  and  for  that  poor 
young  girl.  Both  my  sister  and  I  were  much 
touched  by  it." 

"  Yes,"  continued  Mrs.  Scott,  "  and  that  is  why 
we  have  received  you  to-day  with  so  much  jDleasure. 
We  should  not  have  given  such  a  reception  to  every 
one,  of  that  you  may  be  sure.  Well,  now  take  your 
cigar,  my  sister  is  waiting." 

Jean  could  not  find  a  word  in  reply.  Bettina 
stood  there  with  the  box  of  cigars  in  her  two  hands, 
her  eyes  fixed  frankly  on  the  countenance  of  Jean. 
At  the  moment  she  tasted  a  true  and  keen  pleasure 
which  may  be  expressed  by  this  phrase :  — 

"  It  seems  to  uie  that  I  see  before  me  a  man  of 
honour." 

"  And  now,"  said  Mrs.  Scott,  "  let  us  sit  here 
and  enjoy  this  delicious  night ;  take  your  coffee, 
smoke  —  " 

"  And  do  not  let  us  talk,  Suzie,  do  not  let  us 
talk.  This  great  silence  of  the  country,  after  the 
great  noise  and  bustle  of  Paris  is  delightful !  Let 
us  sit  here  without  speaking ;  let  us  look  at  the 
sky,  the  moon,  and  the  stars." 

All  four,  with  much  pleasure,  carried  out  this 
little  programme.  Suzie  and  Bettina,  calm,  repose- 
ful, absolutely  separated  from  their  existence  of 
yesterday,  already  felt  a  tenderness  for  the  place 
which  had  just  received  them   and  was   going   to 


THE  ABBE   CON  STAN  TIN.  11 B 

keep  them.  Jean  was  less  tranquil;  the  words  of 
Miss  Percival  had  caused  him  profound  emotion, 
his  heart  had  not  yet  quite  regained  its  regular 
throb. 

But  the  happiest  of  all  was  the  Abbe  Constantin. 
This  little  episode  which  had  caused  Jean's  mod- 
esty such  a  rude,  yet  sweet  trial,  had  brought  him 
exquisite  joy,  the  Abbe  bore  his  godson  such  affec- 
tion. The  most  tender  father  never  loved  more 
warmly  the  dearest  of  his  children.  When  the  old 
Cure  looked  at  the  young  officer  he  often  said  to 
himself  — 

"  Heaven  has  been  too  kind ;  I  am  a  priest,  and 
I  have  a  son ! " 

The  Abbe  sank  into  a  very  agreeable  reverie ;  he 
felt  himself  at  home,  he  felt  himself  too  much  at 
home ;  by  degrees  his  ideas  became  hazy  and  con- 
fused, reverie  became  drowsiness,  drowsiness  be- 
came slumber,  the  disaster  was  soon  complete, 
irreparable ;  the  Cure  slept,  and  slept  profoundly. 
This  marvellous  dinner,  and  the  two  or  three  glasses 
of  champagne,  may  have  had  something  to  do  with 
the  catastrophe. 

Jean  perceived  nothing;  he  had  forgotten  the 
promise  made  to  his  godfather.  And  why  had  he 
forgotten  it  ?  Because  Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Perci- 
val had  thought  proper  to  put  their  feet  on  the 
footstools,  placed  in  front  of  their  great  wicker 
garden  chairs  filled  with  cushions ;  then  they  had 
thrown  themselves  lazily  back  in  their  chairs,  and 


114  THE  ABB£  CONSTANTIN. 

their  muslin  skirts  had  become  raised  a  little,  a 
very  little,  but  yet  enough  to  display  four  little 
feet,  the  lines  of  which  showed  very  distinctly  and 
clearly  beneath  two  pretty  clouds  of  white  lace. 
Jean  looked  at  these  little  feet,  and  asked  himself 
this  question  — 

"  Which  are  the  smaller  ?  " 

While  he  was  trying  to  solve  this  problem,  Bet- 
tina  all  at  once  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice  — 

"Monsieur  Jean !  Monsieur  Jean  ! " 

"  Miss  Percival  ?  " 

"Look  at  the  Cure,  he  is  asleep." 

"  Oh  !  it  is  my  fault." 

"  How,  your  fault  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Scott,  also  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  Yes ;  my  godfather  rises  at  daybreak  and  goes 
to  bed  very  early ;  he  told  me  to  be  sure  and  pre- 
vent his  falling  asleep ;  when  Madame  de  Longue- 
val  was  here  he  very  often  had  a  nap  after  dinner. 
You  have  shown  him  so  much  kindness  that  he  has 
fallen  back  into  his  old  habits." 

"  And  he  is  perfectly  right,"  said  Bettina,  "  do  not 
make  a  noise,  do  not  wake  him." 

"  You  are  too  good.  Miss  Percival,  but  the  air  is 
getting  a  little  fresh." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  true,  he  might  catch  cold.  Stay,  I 
will  go  and  fetch  a  wrap  for  him." 

"  I  think,  Miss  Percival,  it  would  be  better  to  try 
and  wake  him  skilfully,  so  that  he  should  not  sus- 
pect that  you  had  seen  him  asleep." 


THE  ABBJ^   CONSTANTIN.  115 

"Let  me  do  it,"  said  Bettina.  "  Suzie,  let  us  sing 
together,  very  softly  at  first,  then  we  will  raise  our 
voices  little  by  little,  let  us  sing." 

"  Willingly,  but  what  shall  we  sing  ?  " 

"Let  us  sing  'Quelque  chose  d'enfantin,'  the 
words  are  suitable." 

Suzie  and  Bettina  began  to  sing  — 

If  I  had  but  two  little  wings, 
And  were  a  little  feathery  bird. 

Their  sweet  and  penetrating  voices  had  an  exquisite 
sonority  in  that  profound  silence.  The  Abbe  heard 
nothing,  did  not  move.  Charmed  with  this  little 
concert,  Jean  said  to  himself  — 

"  Heaven  grant  that  my  godfather  may  not  wake 
too  soon ! " 

The  voices  became  clearer  and  louder  — 

But  in  my  sleep  to  you  I  fly, 
I'm  always  with  you  in  my  sleep. 

Yet  the  Abbe  did  not  stir. 

"How  he  sleeps,"  said  Suzie,  "it  is  a  crime  to 

wake  him." 

"  But  we  must ;  louder,  Suzie,  louder," 

Suzie  and  Bettina  both  gave  free  scope  to  the 

power  of  their  voices. 

Sleep  stays  not,  though  a  monarch  bids, 
So  I  love  to  wake  ere  break  of  day. 

The  Cure  woke  with  a  start.  After  a  short  mo- 
ment of  anxiety  he  breathed  again.     Evidently  no 


116  THE  ABB^    CONSTANTIN. 

one  had  noticed  that  he  had  been  to  sleep.  He 
collected  himself,  stretched  himself  prudently, 
slowly,  he  was  saved  ! 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  two  sisters 
accompanied  the  Cure  and  Jean  to  the  little 
gate  of  the  park,  which  opened  into  the  village 
a  few  yards  from  the  vicarage  ;  they  had  nearly 
reached  the  gate  when  Bettina  said  all  at  once  to 
Jean  — 

"  Ah !  all  this  time  I  have  had  a  question  to  ask 
you.  This  morning  when  we  arrived,  we  met  on 
the  way  a  slight  young  man,  with  a  fair  moustache, 
he  was  riding  a  black  horse,  and  bowed  to  us  as  we 
passed." 

"  It  was  Paul  de  Lavardens,  one  of  my  friends ; 
he  has  already  had  the  honour  of  being  introduced 
to  you,  but  rather  vaguely,  and  his  ambition  is  to 
be  presented  again." 

"  Well,  you  shall  bring  him  one  of  these  days," 
said  Mrs.  Scott. 

"  After  the  twenty-fifth  ! "  cried  Bettina.  "  Not 
before  !  not  before  !  No  one  till  then  ;  till  then  we 
will  see  no  one  but  you,  Monsieur  Jean.  But  you, 
it  is  very  extraordinary,  and  I  don't  quite  know 
how  it  has  happened,  you  don't  seem  anybody  to 
us.  The  compliment  is  perhaps  not  very  well 
turned,  but  do  not  make  a  mistake,  it  is  a  compli- 
ment. I  intended  to  be  excessively  amiable  in 
speaking  to  you  thus." 

"  And  so  you  are,  Miss  Percival." 


THE  ABBE    CONSTANTIN.  117 

"  So  much  the  better  if  I  have  been  so  fortunate 
as  to  make  myself  understood.  Good-bye,  Mon- 
sieur Jean  —  till  to-morrow  !  " 

Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival  returned  slowly 
towards  the  castle. 

"And  now,  Suzie,"  said  Bettina,  "  scold  me  well, 
I  expect  it,  I  have  deserved  it." 

"  Scold  you  !     Why  ?  " 

"You  are  going  to  say,  I  am  sure,  that  I  have 
been  too  familiar  with  that  young  man." 

"  No,  I  shall  not  say  that.  From  the  first  day 
that  young  man  has  made  the  most  favourable  im- 
pression upon  me ;  he  inspires  me  with  perfect 
confidence." 

"  And  so  he  does  me." 

"  I  am  persuaded  that  it  would  be  well  for  us 
both  to  try  to  make  a  friend  of  him." 

"With  all  my  heart,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned, 
so  much  the  more  as  I  have  seen  many  young 
men  since  we  have  lived  in  France.  Oh  !  yes,  I 
have,  indeed  !  Well !  this  is  the  first,  positively 
the  first,  in  whose  eyes  I  have  not  clearly  read, 
'  Oh !  how  glad  I  should  be  to  marry  the  millions 
of  that  little  person.'  That  was  written  in  the 
eyes  of  all  the  others,  but  not  in  his  eyes.  Now, 
here  we  are  at  home  again.  Good-night,  Suzie  — 
to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Scott  went  to  see  and  kiss  her  sleeping 
children. 


118 


THE  ABBS   CONSTANTIN. 


Bettina  remained  long,  leaning  on  the  balustrade 
of  her  balcony. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  she,  "  that  I  am  going  to 
be  very  fond  of  this  place." 


CHAPTER   VII. 


The  next  morning,  on  returning  from  drill,  Jean 
found  Paul  de  Lavardens  waiting  for  him  at  the 
barracks ;  he  scarcely  allowed  him  time  to  dismount, 
and  the  moment  he  had  him  alone  — 

"  Quick,"  said  he,  "  describe  your  dinner  party  of 
yesterday.  I  saw  them  myself  in  the  morning  ;  the 
little  one  was  driving  four  ponies,  and  with  an 
amount  of  audacity.  I  bowed  to  them ;  did  they 
mention  me  ?  Did  they  recognise  me  ?  When  will 
you  take  me  to  Longueval  ?     Answer  me." 

"  Answer  ?  yes.     But  which  question  first  ?  " 

"  The  last." 

"  When  will  I  take  you  to  Longueval  ?  " 

"Yes." 

119 


120  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

"  Well,  in  ten  days  ;  tliey  don't  want  to  see  any- 
one just  now." 

"  Then  you  are  not  going  back  to  Longueval  for 
ten  days  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  shall  go  back  to-day  at  four  o'clock. 
But  I  don't  count,  you  know.  Jean  Reynaud  the 
Cure's  godson.  That  is  why  I  have  penetrated  so 
easily  into  the  confidence  of  these  two  charming 
women.  I  have  presented  myself  under  the  patron- 
age and  with  the  guarantee  of  the  Church.  And 
then  they  have  discovered  that  I  could  render  them 
little  services.  I  know  the  country  very  well,  and 
they  will  make  use  of  me  as  a  guide.  In  a  word, 
I  am  nobody ;  while  you,  Count  Paul  de  Lavardens, 
you  are  somebody  ;  so  fear  nothing,  your  turn  will 
come  with  the  fetes  and  balls.  Then  you  will  be 
resplendent  in  all  your  glory,  and  I  shall  return 
very  humbly  into  my  obscurity." 

''  You  may  laugh  at  me  as  much  as  you  like  ;  it  is 
none  the  less  true  that  during  those  ten  days  you 
will  steal  a  march  upon  me  —  upon  me!" 

"  How  upon  you  ?  " 

"Now,  Jean,  do  you  want  to  make  me  believe 
that  you  are  not  already  in  love  with  one  of  these 
two  women  ?  Is  it  possible  ?  So  much  beauty,  so 
much  luxury.  Luxury  to  that  degree  upsets  me. 
Those  black  ponies  with  their  white  rosettes  !  I 
dreamt  of  them  last  night,  and  that  little — Bettina, 
is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Bettina." 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  121 

"Bettina  —  Countess  Bettina  de  Lavardens  ! 
Doesn't  that  sound  well  enough !  and  what  a  perfect 
husband  she  would  have  in  me  !  To  be  the  hus- 
band of  a  woman  possessing  boundless  wealth,  that 
is  my  destiny.  It  is  not  so  easy  as  one  may  sup- 
pose. I  have  already  run  through  something,  and 
—  if  my  mother  had  not  stopped  me !  but  I  am  quite 
ready  to  begin  again.  Oh  !  how  happy  that  girl 
would  be  with  me.  I  would  create  around  her  the 
existence  of  a  fairy  queen.  In  all  her  luxury  she 
would  feel  the  taste,  the  art,  and  the  skill  of  her 
husband.  I  would  pass  my  life  in  adoring  her,  in 
displaying  her  beauty,  in  petting  her,  in  bearing 
her  triumphant  through  the  world.  I  woiild  study 
her  beauty  in  order  to  give  it  the  frame  that  best 
suited  it.  'If  he  were  not  there,'  she  would  say, 
'  I  should  not  be  so  beautiful,  so  dazzling.'  I  should 
know  not  only  how  to  love  her,  but  how  to  amuse 
her.  She  would  have  something  for  her  money,  she 
would  have  love  and  pleasure.  Come,  Jean,  do  a 
good  action,  take  me  to  Mrs.  Scott's  to-day." 

"  I  cannot,  I  assure  you." 

"Well,  then,  in  ten  days;  but  I  give  you  fair 
notice,  I  shall  instal  myself  at  Longueval,  and  shall 
not  move.  In  the  first  place  it  would  please  my 
mother;  she  is  still  a  little  prejudiced  against  the 
Americans.  She  says  that  she  shall  arrange  not  to 
see  them,  but  I  know  my  mother.  Some  day, 
when  I  shall  go  home  in  the  evening  and  tell  her  : 
*  Mother,  I  have  won  the  heart  of  a  charming  little 


122  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

person  who  is  burdened  with  a  capital  of  twenty 
millions'  —  they  exaggerate  when  they  talk  of 
hundreds  of  millions.  You  know  these  are  the 
correct  figures,  and  they  are  enough  for  me.  That 
evening,  then,  my  mother  will  be  delighted,  because 
in  her  heart  what  is  it  she  desires  for  me  ?  What 
all  good  mothers  desire  for  their  sons,  —  a  good 
marriage,  or  a  discreet  liaison,  with  some  one  in 
society.  At  Longueval  I  find  these  two  essentials, 
and  I  will  accommodate  myself  very  willingly  to 
either.  You  will  have  the  kindness  to  warn  me  in 
ten  days — you  will  let  me  know  which  of  the  two 
you  abandon  to  me,  Mrs.  Scott  or  Miss  Percival." 

"  You  are  mad,  you  are  quite  mad  !  I  do  not,  I 
never  shall  think  —  " 

"  Listen,  Jean.  You  are  wisdom  personified;  you 
may  say  and  do  as  you  like,  but  remember  what  I 
say  to  you,  Jean,  you  will  fall  in  love  in  that  house." 

''I  do  not  believe  it,"  replied  Jean,  laughing. 

"  But  I  am  absolutely  sure  of  it.  Good-bye.  I 
leave  you  to  your  duties." 

That  morning  Jean  was  perfectly  sincere.  He 
had  slept  very  well  the  previous  night ;  the  second 
interview  with  the  two  sisters  had,  as  if  by  enchant- 
ment, dissipated  the  slight  trouble  which  had 
agitated  his  soul  after  the  first  meeting.  He  pre- 
pared to  meet  them  again  with  much  pleasure,  but 
also  with  much  tranquility ;  there  was  too  much 
money  in  that  house  to  permit  the  love  of  a  poor 
devil  like  Jean  to  find  place  honestly  there. 


THE  ABBS   CONSTANTIN.  123 

Friendship  was  another  affair;  with  all  his  heart 
he  wished,  and  with  all  his  strength  he  sought,  to 
establish  himself  peacefully  in  the  esteem  and 
regard  of  the  sisters.  He  would  try  not  to  remark 
too  much  the  beauty  of  Suzie  and  Bettina;  he 
would  try  not  to  forget  himself  as  he  had  done 
the  previous  evening,  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
four  little  feet  resting  on  their  footstools.  They 
had  sftid,  very  frankly,  very  cordially,  to  him, 
"  You  shall  be  our  friend."  That  was  all  he 
desired  —  to  be  their  friend  —  and  that  he  would 
be.  '  <- 

During  the  ten  days  that  followed,  all  conduced 
to  the  success  of  this  enterprise.  Suzie,  Bettina, 
the  Cure,  and  Jean  led  the  same  life  in  the  closest 
and  most  cordial  intimacy. 

Jean  did  not  seek  to  analyse  his  feelings.  He 
felt  for  these  two  women  an  equal  affection;  he 
was  perfectly  happy,  perfectly  tranquil.  Then  he 
was  not  in  love,  for  love  and  tranquility  seldom 
dwell  at  peace  in  the  same  heart. 

Jean,  however,  saw  approach,  with  a  little  anx- 
iety and  sadness,  the  day  which  would  bring  to 
Longueval  the  Tvirners  and  the  ISTortons  and  the 
whole  force  of  the  American  colony.  The  day 
came  too  soon. 

On  Friday,  the  24th  of  June,  at  four  o'clock, 
Jean  arrived  at  the  castle.  Bettina  received  him 
alone,  looking  quite  vexed. 

"  How  annoying  it  is,"  said  she,  "  my  sister  is 


124  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

not  well;  a  little  headache,  nothing  of  consequence, 
it  will  be  gone  by  to-morrow,  but  I  dare  not  ride 
with  you  alone.  In  America  I  might,  but  here  it 
would  not  do,  would  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Jean. 
"  I  must  send  you  back,  and  I  am  so  sorry." 
"And  so  am  I  —  I  am  very  sorry  to  be  obliged 
to  go,  and  to  lose  this  last  day,  which  I  had  hoped 
to  pass  with  you.     However,  since  it  must  be,  I 
will  come  to-morrow  to  inquire  after  your  sister." 

"  She  will  see  you  herself  to-morrow ;  I  repeat 
it  is  nothing  serious.  But  do  not  run  away  in  such 
a  hurry,  pray  ;  will  you  not  spare  me  a  little  quar- 
ter of  an  hour's  conversation  ?  I  want  to  speak  to 
you;  sit  down  there,  and  now  listen  to  me  well. 
My  sister  and  I  had  intended  this  evening  after 
dinner  to  blockade  you  into  a  little  corner  of  the 
drawing-room,  and  then  she  meant  to  tell  you  what 
I  am  going  to  try  to  say  for  us  both.  But  I  am  a 
little  nervous.  Do  not  laugh ;  it  is  a  very  serious 
matter.  We  wish  to  thank  you  for  having  been, 
ever  since  our  arrival  here,  so  good  to  us  both." 
"  Oh !  Miss  Percival,  pray,  it  is  I  who  —  " 
"  Oh  !  do  not  interrupt  me,  you  will  quite  con- 
fuse me.  I  do  not  know  how  to  get  through  with 
it.  I  maintain,  besides,  that  the  thanks  are  due 
from  us,  not  from  you.  We  arrived  here  two 
strangers.  We  have  been  fortunate  enough  to 
immediately  find  friends.  Yes,  friends.  You 
have  taken  us  by  the  hand,   you  have  led  us  to 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  125 

our  farmers,  to  our  keepers ;  while  your  godfather 
took  us  to  his  poor  —  and  everywhere  you  were  so 
much  beloved  that  from  their  confidence  in  you, 
they  began,  on  your  recommendation,  to  like  us  a 
little.  You  are  adored  about  here;  do  you  know 
that  ?  " 

"  I  was  born  here  —  all  these  good  people  have 
known  me  from  my  infancy,  and  are  grateful  to 
me  for  what  my  grandfather  and  father  did  for 
them  ;  and  then  I  am  of  their  race,  the  race  of  the 
peasants  ;  my  great-grandfather  was  a  labourer  at 
Bargecourt,  a  village  two  miles  from  here." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  you  appear  very  proud  of  that !  " 

"  Neither  proud  nor  ashamed." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  you  made  a  little  movement 
of  pride.  Well,  I  can  tell  you  that  my  mother's 
great-grandfather  was  a  farmer  in  Brittany.  He 
went  to  Canada  at  the  end  of  the  last  century, 
when  Canada  Avas  still  French.  And  you  love 
very  much  this  place  where  you  were  born  ?  " 

"  Very  much.  Perhaps  I  shall  soon  be  obliged 
to  leave  it." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"When  I  get  promotion,  I  shall  have  to  exchange 
into  another  regiment,  and  I  shall  wander  from 
garrison  to  garrison,  but  certainly,  when  I  am  an 
old  commandant  or  old  colonel,  on  half-pay,  I  shall 
come  back,  and  live  and  die  here,  in  the  little  house 
that  was  my  father's." 

"  Always  quite  alone  ?  " 


126  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

"Why  quite  alone  ?     I  certainly  hope  not." 

''  You  intend  to  marry." 

"  Yes,  certainly." 

"  You  are  trying  to  get  married  ?  " 

"No,  one  may  think  of  marrying,  but  one  ought 
not  to  try  to  marry." 

"  And  yet  there  are  people  who  do  try.  Come,  I 
can  answer  for  that,  and  you  even  ;  people  have 
wished  to  marry  you." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  know  all  your  little  affairs  so  well ;  you 
are  what  they  call  a  good  match,  and  I  repeat  it, 
they  have  wished  to  marry  you." 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  le  Cure." 

"  Then  he  was  very  wrong,"  said  Jean,  with  a 
certain  sharpness. 

"  No,  no,  he  was  not  wrong.  If  anyone  has  been 
to  blame  it  is  I.  I  soon  discovered  that  your  god- 
father was  never  so  happy  as  when  he  was  speak- 
ing of  you.  So  when  I  was  alone  with  him  during 
our  walks,  to  please  him  I  talked  of  you,  and  he  re- 
lated your  history  to  me.  You  are  well  off,  you 
are  very  well  off;  from  Government  you  receive 
every  month  two  hundred  and  thirteen  francs  and 
some  centimes ;  am  I  correct  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Jean,  deciding  to  bear  with  a  good 
grace  his  share  in  the  Curb's  indiscretions. 

"  You  have  eight  thousand  francs  income." 

"  Nearly,  not  quite." 


THE  abb£  constantin.  127 

"  Add  to  that  your  house,  which  is  worth  thirty 
thousand  francs.  You  are  in  an  excellent  position, 
and  people  have  asked  your  hand." 

"  Asked  my  hand  !     No,  no." 

"  They  have,  they  have,  twice,  and  you  have 
refused  two  very  good  marriages,  two  very  good 
fortunes  if  you  prefer  it  —  it  is  the  same  thing 
for  so  many  people.  Two  hundred  thousand 
francs  in  the  one,  three  hundred  thousand  in  the 
other  case.  It  appears  that  these  fortunes  are 
enormous  for  the  country  !  Yet  you  have  refused  ! 
Tell  me  why." 

"Well,  it  concerned  two  charming  young  girls." 

"  That  is  understood.     One  always  says  that." 

"But  whom  I  scarcely  knew.  They  forced  me 
—  for  I  did  resist  —  they  forced  me  to  spend  two 
or  three  evenings  with  them  last  winter." 

"  And  then  ?  " 

"  Then  —  I  don't  quite  know  how  to  explain  it 
to  you.  I  did  not  feel  the  slightest  touch  of  em- 
barrassment, emotion,  anxiety  or  disturbance — " 

"  In  fact,"  said  Bettina,  resolutely,  "  not  the 
least  suspicion  of  love." 

"  No,  not  the  least,  and  I  returned  quite  calml}" 
to  my  bachelor  den,  for  I  think  it  is  better  not  to 
marry  than  to  marry  without  love." 

"  And  I  think  so  too." 

She  looked  at  him,  he  looked  at  her,  and  sud- 
denly, to  the  great  surprise  of  both,  they  found 
nothing  more  to  say,  nothing  at  all. 


128 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 


At  this  moment  Harry  and  Bella  rushed  into  the 
room  with  cries  of  joy. 

"  Monsieur  Jean  !  Are  you  there  ?  Come  and 
see  our  ponies." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Bettina,  her  voice  a  little  uncertain, 
"  Edwards  has  just  come  back  from  Paris,  and  has 
brought  two  microscopic  ponies  for  the  children. 
Let  us  go  and  see  them,  shall  we  ?  " 

They  went  to  see  the  ponies,  which  were  indeed 
worthy  to  figure  in  the  stables  of  the  King  of 
Lilliput. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


Three  weeks  have  glided  by ;  another  day  and 
Jean  will  be  obliged  to  leave  with  his  regiment  for 
the  artillery  practice.  He  will  lead  the  life  of  a 
soldier.  Ten  days'  inarch  on  the  high  road  going 
and  returning,  and  ten  days  in  the  camp  at  Cer- 
cottes  in  the  Forest  of  Orleans.  The  regiment  will 
return  to  Souvigny  on  the  10th  of  August. 

Jean  is  no  longer  tranquil ;  Jean  is  no  longer 
happy.  He  sees  approach  with  impatience,  and  at 
the  same  time  with  terror,  the  moment  of  his  de- 
parture. With  impatience  —  for  he  suffers  an 
absolute  martyrdom,  he  longs  to  escape  from  it ; 
with  terror  —  for  to  pass  twenty  days  without  see- 
ing her,  without  speaking  to  hei',  without  her  in  a 

129 


130  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

word  —  what  will  become  of  him?  Her!  It  is 
Bettina ;  he  adores  her  ! 

Since  when  ?  Since  the  first  day,  since  that 
meeting  in  the  month  of  May  in  the  Cure's  garden. 
That  is  the  truth ;  but  Jean  struggles  against  and 
resists  that  truth.  He  believes  that  he  has  only 
loved  Bettina  since  the  day  when  the  two  chatted 
gaily,  amicably,  in  the  little  drawing-room.  She 
was  sitting  on  the  blue  couch  near  the  window,  and 
while  talking  amused  herself  with  repairing  the 
disorder  of  the  dress  of  a  Japanese  princess,  one  of 
Bella's  dolls,  whicli  she  had  left  on  a  chair,  and 
which  Bettina  had  mechanically  taken  up. 

Why  had  the  fancy  come  to  Miss  Percival  to  talk 
to  him  of  those  two  young  girls  whom  he  might 
have  married  ?  The  question  of  itself  was  not  at 
all  embarrassing  to  him.  He  had  replied  that,  if  he 
had  not  then  felt  any  taste  for  marriage,  it  was 
because  his  interviews  with  the^e  two  girls  had  not 
caused  him  any  emotion  or  any  agitation.  He  had 
smiled  in  speaking  thus,  but  a  few  minutes  after  he 
smiled  no  more.  This  emotion,  this  agitation,  he 
had  suddenly  learnt  to  know  them.  Jean  did  not 
deceive  himself ;  he  acknowledged  the  depth  of  the 
wound ;  it  had  penetrated  to  his  very  heart's  core. 

Jean,  however,  did  not  abandon  himself  to  this 
emotion.     He  said  to  himself  — 

"  Yes,  it  is  serious,  very  serious,  but  I  shall 
recover  from  it." 

He  sought  an  excuse  for  his  madness  ;  he  laid 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  131 

the  blame  on  circumstances.  For  ten  days  this 
delightful  girl  had  been  too  much  with  him,  too 
much  with  him  alone  !  How  could  he  resist  such  a 
temptation  ?  He  was  intoxicated  with  her  charm, 
with  her  grace  and  beauty.  But  the  next  day  a 
troop  of  visitors  would  arrive  at  Longueval,  and 
there  would  be  an  end  of  this  dangerous  intimacy. 
He  would  have  courage ;  he  Avould  keep  at  a  dis- 
tance ;  he  would  lose  himself  in  the  crowd,  would 
see  Bettina  less  often  and  less  familiarly.  To  see 
her  no  more  was  a  thought  he  could  not  support ! 
He  wished  to  remain  Bettina's  friend  since  he  could 
be  nothing  but  her  friend ;  for  there  was  another 
thought  which  scarcely  entered  the  mind  of  Jean. 
This  thought  did  not  appear  extravagant  to  him  ;  it 
appeared  monstrous.  In  the  whole  world  there  was 
not  a  more  honourable  man  than  Jean,  and  he  felt 
for  Bettina's  money  horror,  positively  horror. 

From  the  25th  of  June  the  crowd  had  been  in 
possession  of  Longueval.  Mrs.  Norton  arrived 
with  her  son,  Daniel  Norton,  and  Mrs.  Turner  with 
her  son,  Philip  Turner.  Both  of  them,  the  young 
Philip  and  the  young  Daniel,  formed  a  part  of  the 
famous  brotherhood  of  the  thirty-four.  The}^  were 
old  friends,  Bettina  had  treated  them  as  such,  and 
had  declared  to  them  with  perfect  frankness  that 
they  were  losing  their  time.  However,  they  were 
not  discouraged,  and  formed  the  centre  of  a  little 
court  which  was  always  very  eager  and  assiduous 
around  Bettina. 


132  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

Paul  de  Lavardens  had  made  his  appearance 
on  this  scene,  and  had  very  rapidly  become  every- 
body's friend.  He  had  received  the  brilliant  and 
complicated  education  of  a  young  man  destined  for 
pleasure.  As  soon  as  it  was  a  question  only  of 
amusement,  riding,  croquet,  lawn  tennis,  polo, 
dancing,  charades,  and  theatricals,  he  was  ready 
for  everything,  he  excelled  in  everything.  His 
superiority  was  evident,  unquestionable.  Paul 
became  in  a  short  time  by  general  consent  the 
director  and  organiser  of  the  fetes  at  Longueval. 

Bettina  had  not  a  moment  of  hesitation.  Jean 
introduced  Paul  de  Lavardens,  and  the  latter  had 
scarcely  concluded  the  customary  little  compliment 
when  Miss  Percival,  leaning  towards  her  sister, 
whispered  in  her  ear  — 

"  The  thirty-fifth  !  " 

However,  she  received  Paul  very  kindly,  so  kindly 
that  for  several  days  he  had  the  weakness  to  mis- 
understand her.  He  believed  that  it  Avas  his  per- 
sonal graces  wliieh  had  ol)tained  for  him  this  very 
flattering  and  cordial  reception.  It  was  a  great 
mistake.  Paul  de  Lavardens  had  been  introduced 
by  Jean  ;  he  was  the  friend  of  Jean.  In  Bettina's 
eyes  therein  lay  all  his  merit. 

Mrs.  Scott's  castle  was  open  house ;  people  were 
not  invited  for  one  evening  only,  but  for  every  even- 
ing, and  Paul,  with  enthusiasm,  came  every  even- 
ing. His  dream  was  at  last  realised  ;  lie  had  found 
Paris  at  Longueval. 


THE  ABBIS   CONSTANTIN.  133 

But  Paul  was  neither  blind  nor  a  fool.  No  doubt 
he  was,  on  Miss  Percival's  part,  the  object  of  very 
particular  attention  and  favour.  It  pleased  her  to 
talk  long,  very  long,  alone  with  him.  But  what 
was  the  eternal,  the  inexhaustible  subject  of  their 
conversations  ?  Jean,  again  Jean,  and  always 
Jean  ! 

Paul  was  thoughtless,  dissipated,  frivolous,  but 
he  became  in  earnest  when  Jean  was  in  question ; 
he  knew  how  to  appreciate  him,  he  knew  how  to 
love  him.  Nothing  to  him  was  sweeter,  nothing 
was  easier,  then  to  say  of  the  friend  of  his  child- 
hood all  the  good  that  he  thought  of  him,  and  as  he 
saw  that  Bettina  listened  with  great  pleasure,  Paul 
gave  free  rein  to  his  eloquence. 

Only  —  and  he  was  quite  right — Paul  wished 
one  evening  to  reap  the  benefit  of  his  chivalrous 
conduct.  He  had  just  been  talking  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  with  Bettina.  The  conversation  finished, 
he  went  to  look  for  Jean  at  the  other  end  of  the 
drawing-room,  and  said  to  him  — 

"  You  left  the  field  open  to  me,  and  I  have  made 
a  bold  stroke  for  Miss  Percival." 

''Well,  you  have  no  reason  to  be  discontented 
with  the  result  of  the  enterprise.  You  are  the  best 
friends  in  the  world." 

"  Yes,  certainly,  pretty  well,  but  not  quite  satis- 
factory. There  is  nothing  more  amiable  or  more 
charming  than  Miss  Percival,  and  really  it  is  very 
good  of   me  to  acknowledge  it,  for,  between  our- 


134  THE  ABBlS    CON  STAN  TIN. 

selves,  she  makes  me  play  an  ungrateful  and  ridicu- 
lous role,  a  role  which  is  quite  unsuited  to  my  age. 
I  am,  you  will  admit,  of  the  lover's  age,  and  not  of 
that  of  the  confidant." 

"Of  the  confidant?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  fellow,  of  the  confidant !  That  is 
my  occupation  in  this  house.  You  were  looking  at 
us  just  now.  Oh!  I  have  very  good  eyes;  you 
were  looking  at  us.  Well,  do  you  know  what  we 
were  talking  about?  Of  you,  my  dear  fellow,  of 
you,  of  you  again,  of  nothing  but  you.  And  it  is 
the  same  thing  every  evening ;  there  is  no  end  to 
the  questions. 

'' '  You  were  brought  up  together  ?  You  took 
lessons  together  from  the  Abbe  Constantin  ?  ' 

" '  Will  he  soon  be  captain  ?     And  then  ? ' 

" '  Commandant.' 

" '  And  then  ? ' 

" '  Colonel,  &c.,  &c.,  &c.' 

"  Ah  !  I  can  tell  you,  my  friend  Jean,  if  you  liked, 
you  might  dream  a  very  delicious  dream." 

Jean  was  annoyed,  almost  angry.  Paul  was  much 
astonished  at  this  sudden  attack  of  irritability. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?     Have  I  said  anything  ? 


"  I  l)eg  your  pardon ;  I  was  wrong.  But  how  could 
you  take  such  an  absurd  idea  into  your  head  ?  " 

"  Absurd !  I  don't  see  it.  I  have  entertained  the 
absurd  idea  on  my  own  account." 

''Ah!  you  —  " 


THE  abbE  CONSTANTIN.  135 

"  Why  '  Ah !  me  ? '  If  I  have  had  it  you  may  have 
it ;  you  are  better  worth  it  than  I  am." 

"Paul,  I  entreat  you  ! " 

Jean's  discomfort  was  evident. 

"  We  will  not  speak  of  it  again ;  we  will  not 
speak  of  it  again.  What  I  wanted  to  say,  in  short, 
is  that  Miss  Percival  thinks  me  very  nice,  very 
nice ;  but  as  to  thinking  of  me  seriously,  that  little 
person  will  never  think  of  me  seriously.  I  must 
fall  back  upon  Mrs.  Scott,  but  without  much  confi- 
dence. You  see,  Jean,  I  shall  amuse  myself  in 
this  house,  but  I  shall  make  nothing  out  of  it." 

Paul  de  Lavardens  did  fall  back  upon  Mrs.  Scott, 
but  the  next  day  was  surprised  to  stumble  upon 
Jean,  who  had  taken  to  placing  himself  very  regu- 
larly in  Mrs.  Scott's  particular  circle,  for  like 
Bettina  she  had  also  her  little  court.  But  what 
Jean  sought  there  was  a  protection,  a  shelter,  a 
refuge. 

The  day  of  that  memorable  conversation  on 
marriage  without  love,  Bettina  had  also,  for  the 
first  time,  felt  suddenly  awake  in  her  that  neces- 
sity of  loving  which  sleeps,  but  not  very  pro- 
foundly, in  the  hearts  of  all  young  girls.  The 
sensation  had  been  the  same,  at  the  same  moment, 
in  the  soul  of  Bettina  and  the  soul  of  Jean.  He, 
terrified,  had  cast  it  violently  from  him.  She,  on 
the  contrary,  had  yielded  in  all  the  simplicity  of 
her  perfect  innocence  to  this  flood  of  emotion  and 
of  tenderness. 


136  THE  ABB15   CONSTANTIN. 

She  had  waited  for  love.  Could  this  be  love  ? 
The  man  who  was  to  be  her  thought,  her  life,  her 
soul  —  could  this  be  he  —  this  Jean  ?  Why  not  ? 
She  knew  him  better  than  she  knew  all  those  who 
during  the  past  year  had  haunted  her  for  her 
fortune,  and  in  what  she  knew  of  him  there  was 
nothing  to  discourage  the  love  of  a  good  girl.  Far 
from  it  ! 

Both  of  them  did  well ;  both  of  them  were  in 
the  way  of  duty  and  of  truth  —  she  in  yielding,  he 
in  resisting  ;  she  in  not  thinking  for  a  moment  of 
the  obscurity  of  Jean  ;  he  in  recoiling  before  her 
mountain  of  wealth  as  he  would  have  recoiled 
before  a  crime  ;  she  in  thinking  that  she  had  no 
right  to  parley  with  love  ;  he  in  thinking  he  had  no 
right  to  parley  with  honour. 

This  is  why,  in  proportion  as  Bettina  showed 
herself  more  tender,  and  abandoned  herself  with 
more  frankness  to  the  first  call  of  love  —  this  is 
why  Jean  became  day  by  day  more  gloon>y  and 
more  restless.  He  was  not  only  afraid  of  loving; 
he  was  afraid  of  being  loved. 

He  ought  to  have  remained  away ;  he  should  not 
have  come  near  her.  He  had  tried  ;  he  could  not; 
the  temptation  was  too  strong ;  it  carried  him 
away ;  so  he  came.  She  would  come  to  him,  her 
hands  extended,  a  smile  on  her  lips,  and  her  heart 
in  her  eyes.     Everything  in  her  said  — 

"Let  us  try  to  love  each  other,  and  if  we  can 
we  will  love  !  " 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  137 

Fear  seized  him.  Those  two  hands  which  offered 
themselves  to  the  pressure  of  his  hands,  he  scarcely 
dared  to  touch  them.  He  tried  to  escape  those 
eyes  which,  tender  and  smiling,  anxious  and 
curious,  tried  to  meet  his  eyes.  He  trembled 
before  the  necessity  of  speaking  to  Bettina,  before 
the  necessity  of  listening  to  her. 

It  was  then  that  Jean  took  refuge  with  Mrs. 
Scott,  and  it  was  then  that  JNIrs.  Scott  gathered 
those  uncertain,  agitated,  troubled  words  which 
were  not  addressed  to  her,  and  which  she  took  for 
herself  nevertheless.  It  would  have  been  difficult 
not  to  have  been  mistaken. 

For  of  these  still  vague  and  confused  sentiments 
which  agitated  her  Bettina  had  as  yet  said  nothing. 
She  guarded  and  caressed  the  secret  of  her  budding 
love,  as  a  miser  guards  and  caresses  the  first  coins  of 
his  treasure.  The  day  when  she  should  see  clearly 
into  her  own  heart,  the  day  that  she  should  be  sure 
that  she  loved  —  ah !  slie  would  speak  that  day, 
and  how  happy  she  should  be  to  tell  all  to  Suzie  ! 

Mrs.  Scott  had  ended  by  attributing  to  herself 
this  melancholy  of  Jean,  whicli  day  by  day  took  a 
more  marked  character.  She  was  flattered  by  it  — 
a  woman  is  never  displeased  at  thinking  herself 
beloved  —  and  vexed  at  the  same  time.  She  held 
Jean  in  great  esteem,  in  great  affection,  but  she  was 
greatly  distressed  at  the  thought  that  if  he  were 
sad  and  unhappy,  it  was  because  of  hero 

Suzie  was,  besides,  conscious  of   her  own  inno- 


138  THE  abbE  constantin. 

cence.  With  others  she  had  sometimes  been  co- 
quettish, very  coquettish.  To  torment  them  a 
little,  was  that  such  a  great  crime  ?  They  had 
nothing  to  do,  they  were  good-for-nothing,  it  occu- 
pied them  while  it  amused  her.  It  helped  them  to 
pass  their  time,  and  it  helped  her  too.  But  Suzie 
had  not  to  reproach  herself  for  having  flirted  with 
Jean.  She  recognised  his  merit  and  his  superiority  ; 
he  was  worth  more  than  the  others,  he  was  a  man 
to  suffer  seriously,  and  that  was  what  Mrs.  Scott 
did  not  wish.  Already  two  or  three  times,  she  had 
been  on  the  point  of  speaking  to  him  very  seriously? 
very  affectionately,  but  she  had  reflected  Jean  was 
going  away  for  three  weeks;  on  his  return  if  it  were 
still  necessary,  she  would  read  him  a  lecture,  and 
would  act  in  such  a  manner  that  love  should  not 
come  and  foolishly  interfere  in  their  friendship. 

So  Jean  was  to  go  the  next  day.  Bettina  had 
insisted  that  he  should  spend  this  last  day  at  Lon- 
gueval,  and  dine  at  the  house.  Jean  had  refused, 
alleging  that  he  had  much  to  do  the  night  before 
his  departure. 

He  arrived  in  the  evening,  about  half-past  ten, 
he  came  on  foot.  Several  times  on  the  way  he  had 
been  inclined  to  return. 

"  If  I  had  courage  enough,"  he  said  to  himself, 
*'I  would  not  see  her  again.  I  shall  leave  to- 
morrow, and  return  no  more  to  Souvigny  while  she 
is  there.  My  resolution  is  taken,  and  taken  for 
ever." 


THE  ABBlS   CONSTANTIN.  139 

But  he  continued  his  way,  he  wouki  see  her  again 
— for  the  last  time. 

As  soon  as  he  entered  the  drawing-room,  Bett?aa 
hastened  to  him. 

"  It  is  you  at  last !     How  late  you  are  ! " 

"I  have  been  very  busy." 

"  And  you  are  going  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to-morrow." 

"  Early  ?  " 

"At  five  in  the  morning." 

"  You  will  go  by  the  road  which  runs  by  the  wall 
of  the  park,  and  goes  through  the  village." 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  way  we  shall  go." 

<'  Why  so  early  in  the  morning  ?  T  would  have 
gone  out  on  the  terrace  to  see  you  pass  and  to  wish 
you  good-bye." 

Bettina  detained  for  a  moment  Jean's  burning 
hand  in  hers.  He  drew  it  mournfully  away,  with 
an  effort. 

"I  must  go  and  speak  to  your  sister,"  said  he. 

"Directly,  she  has  not  seen  you,  there  are  a 
dozen  persons  round  her.  Come  and  sit  here  a  little 
while,  near  me." 

He  was  obliged  to  seat  himself  beside  her. 

"We  are  going  away  too,"  said  she. 

"  You  ! " 

"Yes.  An  hour  ago,  we  received  a  telegram 
from  my  brother-in-law,  which  has  caused  us  great 
joy.  W^e  did  not  expect  him  for  a  month,  but  he 
is  coming  back  in  a  fortnight.     He  will  embark  the 


140  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

day  after  to-morrow  at  New  York,  on  board  the 
Labrador.  We  are  going  to  meet  him  at  Havre. 
We  shall  also  start  the  day  after  to-morrow,  we  are 
going  to  take  the  children,  it  will  do  them  a  great 
deal  of  good  to  spend  a  few  days  at  the  seaside. 
How  pleased  my  brother-in-law  will  be  to  know 
you  —  he  knows  you  already,  we  have  spoken  of 
you  in  all  our  letters.  I  am  sure  you  and  Mr.  Scott 
will  get  on  extremely  well  together,  he  is  so  good. 
How  long  will  you  stay  away  ?  " 

''Three  weeks." 

"  Three  weeks  in  a  camp  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Percival,  in  the  camp  of  Cercottes." 

"  In  the  middle  of  the  forest  of  Orleans.  I  made 
your  godfather  explain  all  about  it  to  me  this 
morning.  Of  course  I  am  delighted  to  go  to  meet 
my  brother-in-law,  but  at  the  same  time,  I  am  a 
little  sorry  to  leave  here,  for  I  would  have  gone 
every  morning  to  pay  a  little  visit  to  Monsieur 
I'Abb^.  He  would  have  given  me  news  of  you. 
Perhaps,  in  about  ten  days  you  will  write  to  my 
sister  —  a  little  note  of  three  or  four  lines,  —  it 
will  not  take  much  of  your  time  —  just  to  tell  her 
how  you  are,  and  that  you  do  not  forget  us." 

"  Oh  !  as  to  forgetting  you,  as  to  losing  the  re- 
membrance of  your  extreme  kindness,  your  good- 
ness, never,  Miss  Percival,  never." 

His  voice  trembled,  he  was  afraid  of  his  own 
emotion,  he  rose. 

'^I  assure   you,  Miss   Percival,  1  must   go  and 


'THE  ABB]^   CONSTANTIN.  141 

speak  to  your  sister.  She  is  looking  at  me.  She 
must  be  astonished." 

He  crossed  the  room,  Bettiua  followed  him  with 
her  eyes. 

Mrs.  Norton  had  just  placed  herself  at  the  piano 
to  play  a  waltz  for  the  young  people, 

Paul  de  Lavardens  approached  Miss  Percival. 

"Will  you  do  me  the  honour,  Miss  Percival  ?  " 

"I  believe  I  have  just  promised  this  dance  to 
Monsieur  Jean,"  she  replied. 

"  Well,  if  not  to  him,  will  you  give  it  to  me  ?  " 

"  That  is  understood." 

Bettiua  walked  towards  Jean,  who  had  seated 
himself  near  Mrs.  Scott. 

"I  have  just  told  a  dreadful  story,"  said  she. 
"Monsieur  de  Lavardens  has  asked  me  for  this 
dance,  and  I  replied  that  I  had  promised  it  to  you. 
You  would  like  it,  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

To  hold  her  in  his  arms,  to  breathe  the  perfume 
of  her  hair  —  Jean  felt  his  courage  could  not  sup- 
port this  ordeal,  he  dared  not  accept. 

"I  regret  extremely  I  cannot,  I  am  not  well,  to- 
night, I  persisted  in  coming  because  I  would  not 
leave  without  wishing  you  good-bye,  but  dance !  no, 
it  is  impossible  !  " 

Mrs.  Norton  began  the  prelude  of  the  waltz. 

"Well,"  said  Paul,  coming  up  quite  joyful,  "who 
is  it  to  be,  he  or  I  ?  " 

"You,"  she  said  sadly,  without  removing  her 
eyes  from  Jean. 


142  FHE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

She  was  much  disturbed  and  replied  without 
knowing  well  what  she  said.  She  immediately 
regretted  having  accepted,  she  would  have  liked 
to  stay  there,  near  him.  But  it  was  too  late,  Paul 
took  her  hand  and  led  her  away. 

Jean  rose ;  he  looked  at  the  two,  Bettina  and 
Paul,  a  haze  floated  before  his  eyes,  he  suffered 
cruelly. 

"There  is  only  one  thing  I  can  do,"  thought  he, 
"profit  by  this  waltz,  and  go.  To-morrow  I  will 
write  a  few  lines  to  Mrs.  Scott  to  excuse  myself." 

He  gained  the  door,  he  looked  no  more  at  Bet- 
tina ;  had  he  looked,  he  would  have  stayed. 

But  Bettina  looked  at  him  ;  and  all  at  once  she 
said  to  Paul  — 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  but  I  am  a  little  tired, 
let  us  stop,  please.  You  will  excuse  me,  will  you 
not  ?  " 

Paul  offered  his  arm. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  she. 

The  door  was  just  closing,  Jean  was  no  longer 
there.  Bettina  ran  across  the  room.  Paul  re- 
mained alone,  much  surprised,  understanding  noth- 
ing of  what  had  passed. 

Jean  was  already  at  the  hall  door,  Avlien  he  heard 
someone  call  —  "Monsieur  Jean!  Monsieur  Jean!" 

He  stopped  and  turned.     She  was  near  him. 

"You  are  going  without  wishing  me  good-bye?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  am  very  tired." 

"  Then  you  must  not  walk  home,   the  weather 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  148 

is  threatening,"  —  she  extended  her  hand  out  of 
doors —  "it  is  raining  already." 

"  Come  and  have  a  cup  of  tea  in  the  little  draw- 
ing-room, and  I  will  tell  them  to  drive  you  home," 
and  turning  towards  one  of  the  footmen,  "  tell  them 
to  send  a  carriage  roinid  directly." 

"No,  Miss  Percival,  pray,  the  open  air  will  re- 
vive me.     I  must  walk,  let  me  go." 

"  Go,  then,  but  you  have  no  great  coat,  take  some, 
thing  to  wrap  yourself  in." 

"  I  shall  not  be  cold — while  you  with  that  open 
dress.  I  shall  go  to  oblige  you  to  go  in."  And 
without  even  offering  his  hand,  he  ran  quickly 
down  the  steps. 

"  If  I  touch  her  hand,"  he  thought,  "  I  am  lost, 
my  secret  will  escape  me." 

His  secret !  He  did  not  know  that  Bettina  read 
his  heart  like  an  open  book. 

When  Jean  had  descended  the  steps,  he  hesitated 
one  short  moment,  these  words  were  upon  his  lips  — 

"  I  love  you,  I  adore  you,  and  that  is  why  I  will 
see  you  no  more  !  " 

But  he  did  not  utter  these  words,  he  fled  away 
and  was  soon  lost  in  the  darkness. 

Bettina  remained  there  against  the  brilliant  back- 
ground made  by  the  light  from  hall.  Great  drops 
of  rain  driven  by  the  wind  swept  across  her  bare 
shoulders  and  made  her  shiver,  she  took  no  notice, 
she  distinctly  heard  her  heart  beat. 

"I  knew  very  well  that  he  loved  me,"  she  thought, 


144  THE  ABBlS   CONSTANTIN. 

"  but  now  I  am  very  sure,  that  I  too  —  oh  !  yes  !  I 
too! " 

All  at  once  in  one  of  the  great  mirrors  in  the  hall 
door,  she  saw  the  reflection  of  the  two  footmen  who 
stood  there  motionless,  near  the  oak  table  in  the 
liall.  Bettina  heard  bursts  of  laughter  and  the 
strains  of  the  waltz ;  she  stopped.  She  wished  to 
be  alone,  completely  alone,  and  addressing  one  of 
the  servants  she  said  — 

"■  Go  and  tell  your  mistress  that  I  am  very  tired, 
and  have  gone  to  my  own  room." 

Annie,  her  maid,  had  fallen  asleep  in  an  easy 
chair.  She  sent  her  away.  She  would  undress 
herself.  She  let  herself  sink  on  a  couch,  she  was 
oppressed  with  delicious  emotion. 

The  door  of  her  room  opened,  it  was  Mrs.  Scott. 

"  You  are  not  well,  Bettina  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  Suzie,  is  it  you,  my  Suzie  ?  how  nice  of  you 
to  come.  Sit  here,  close  to  me,  quite  close  to  me." 
She  hid  herself  like  a  child  in  the  arms  of  her  sis- 
ter, caressing  with  her  burning  brow  Suzie's  fresh 
shoulders.  Then  she  suddenly  burst  into  sobs, 
great  sobs,  which  stifled,  suffocated  her. 

"  Bettina,  my  darling,  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"Nothing,  nothing!  it   is   nothing,  it   is  joy  — 

joy  ! " 

''  Joy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  wait  —  let  me  cry  a  little,  it  will  do  me 
so  much  good.  But  do  not  be  frightened,  do  not  be 
frightened." 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  145 

Beneath  her  sister's  caress,  Bettina  grew  calm, 
soothed. 

"  It  is  over,  I  am  better  now,  and  I  can  talk  to 
you.     It  is  about  Jean." 

"  Jean  !     You  call  him  Jean  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  call  him  Jean.  Have  you  not  noticed 
for  some  time  that  he  was  dull  and  looked  quite 
melancholy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have." 

"When  he  came,  he  went  and  posted  himself 
near  you,  and  stayed  there,  silent,  absorbed,  to  such 
a  degree,  that  for  several  days  I  asked  myself  — 
pardon  me  for  speaking  to  you  with  such  frankness, 
it  is  my  way,  you  know  —  I  asked  myself  if  it  were 
not  you  Avhom  he  loved,  Suzie  ;  you  are  so  charm- 
ing, it  would  have  been  so  natural !  But  no,  it  was 
not  you,  it  was  me  !  " 

"  You !  " 

"  Yes,  me.  Listen,  he  scarcely  dared  to  look  at 
me,  he  avoided  me,  he  fled  from  me,  he  was  afraid 
of  me,  evidently  afraid.  Now,  in  justice,  am  I  a 
person  to  inspire  fear  ?     I  am  sure  I  am  not !  " 

"  Certainly  not !  " 

"Ah!Jt  was  not  me  of  whom  he  was  afraid,  it 
was  my  money,  my  horrid  money  !  This  money 
which  attracts  all  the  others  and  tempts  them  so 
much,  this  money  terrifies  him,  drives  him  desper- 
ate because  he  is  not  like  the  others,  because  he  —  " 

"My  child,  take  care,  perhaps  you  are  mistaken." 

"  Oh !  noj  I  am  not  mistaken.     Just  now,  at  the 


146  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

door,  when  he  was  going  away  he  said  some  words 
to  me.  These  words  were  nothing.  But  if  you 
had  seen  his  distress  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to 
control  it !  Suzie,  dear  Suzie,  by  the  affection  which 
I  bear  you,  and  God  knows  how  great  is  that  affec- 
tion, this  is  my  conviction,  my  absolute  conviction 
—  if  instead  of  being  Miss  Percival  I  had  been  a 
poor  little  girl  without  a  penny,  Jean  would  then 
have  taken  my  hand,  and  have  told  me  that  he 
loved  me,  and  if  he  had  spoken  to  me  thus,  do  you 
know  what  I  should  have  replied  ?  " 

"  That  you  loved  him  too  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  that  is  why  I  am  so  happy.  With 
me  it  is  a  fixed  idea  that  I  must  adore  the  man  who 
will  be  my  husband.  Well !  I  don't  say  that  I 
adore  Jean,  no,  not  yet,  but  still  it  is  beginning, 
Suzie,  and  it  is  beginning  so  sweetly  ?  " 

"  Bettina,  it  really  makes  me  uneasy  to  see  you 
in  this  state  of  excitement.  I  do  not  deny  that 
Monsieur  Reynaud  is  much  attached  to  you  —  " 

"  Oh  !  more  than  that,  more  than  that ! " 

"  Loves  you,  if  you  like ;  yes,  you  are  right,  you 
are  quite  right.  He  loves  you ;  and  are  you  not 
worthy,  my  darling,  of  all  the  love  that  one  can 
bear  you  ?  As  to  Jean  —  it  is  progressing  decid- 
edly, here  am  I  also  calling  him  Jean  —  well !  you 
know  what  I  think  of  him.  I  rank  him  very,  very 
liigh.  But  in  spite  of  that,  is  he  really  a  suitable 
husband  for  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  I  love  him." 


THE  ABB^   CONSTAIJTIN.  147 

"  I  am  trying  to  talk  sensibly  to  you,  and  you,  on 
the  contrary  —  Understand  me,  Bettina ;  I  have  an 
experience  of  the  world  which  you  cannot  have. 
Since  our  arrival  in  Paris  we  have  been  launched  into 
a  very  brilliant,  very  animated,  very  aristocratic  soci- 
ety. You  might  have  been  already,  if  you  had 
liked.  Marchioness  or  Princess." 

"Yes,  but  I  did  not  like." 

"  It  would  not  matter  to  you  to  be  called 
Madame  Eeynaud  ?  " 

"iSTot  in  the  least,  if  I  love  him." 

"Ah  !  you  return  always  to " 

"  Because  that  is  the  true  question.  There  is  no 
other.  Now  I  will  be  sensible  in  my  turn.  This  ques- 
tion— I  grant  that  this  is  not  quite  settled,  and  that 
I  have,  perhaps,  allowed  myself  to  be  too  easily  per- 
suaded. You  see  how  sensible  I  am.  Jean  is  going 
away  to-morrow,  I  shall  not  see  him  again  for  three 
weeks.  During  these  three  weeks  I  shall  have  ample 
time  to  question  myself,  to  examine  myself,  in  a 
word,  to  know  my  own  mind.  Under  my  giddy  man- 
ner, I  am  serious  and  thoughtful,  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Oh !  yes,  I  know  it." 

"  Well,  I  will  make  this  petition  to  you,  as  I 
would  have  addressed  it  to  our  mother  had  she 
been  here.  If  in  three  weeks  I  say  to  you,  '  Suzie, 
I  am  certain  that  I  love  him,'  will  you  allow  me  to 
go  to  him  myself,  quite  alone,  and  ask  him  if  he  will 
have  me  for  his  wife  ?  That  is  what  you  did  with 
Eichard.     Tell  me,  Suzie,  will  you  allow  me  ?  " 


148  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

''Yes,  I  will  allow  you." 

Bettina  embraced  her  sister,  and  murmured  these 
words  in  her  ear  — 

"  Thank  you,  mamma." 

"Mamma,  mamma!  It  was  thus  that  you  used 
to  call  me  when  you  were  a  child,  when  we  were 
alone  in  tlie  world  together,  when  I  used  to  undress 
you  in  our  poor  room  in  New  York,  when  I  held 
you  in  my  arms,  when  I  laid  you  in  your  little  bed, 
when  I  sang  you  to  sleep.  And  since  then,  Bet- 
tina, I  have  had  only  one  desire  in  the  world,  your 
happiness.  That  is  why  I  beg  you  to  reflect  well.  Do 
not  answer  me,  do  not  let  us  talk  any  more  of  that. 
I  wish  to  leave  you  very  calm,  very  tranquil. 
You  have  sent  away  Annie,  would  you  like  me  to  be 
your  little  mamma  again  to-night,  to  undress  you, 
and  put  you  to  bed  as  I  used  to  do  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  should  like  it  very  much." 

"  And  when  you  are  in  bed,  you  promise  me  to 
be  very  good  ?  " 

"  As  good  as  an  angel." 

"  You  will  do  your  best  to  go  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  My  very  best." 

"Very  quietly,  without  thinking  of  anything?" 

"  Very  quietly,  without  thinking  of  anything." 

"  Very  well,  then." 

Ten  minutes  after,  Bettina's  pretty  head  rested 
gently  amidst  embroideries  and  lace.  Suzie  said  to 
her  sister  — 

"  I  am  going  down  to  those  people  who  bore  me 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  149 

dreadfully  this  evening.  Before  going  to  my  own 
room,  I  shall  come  back  and  see  if  you  are  asleep. 
Do  not  speak.     Go  to  sleep." 

She  went  away.  Bettina  remained  alone  ;  she 
tried  to  keep  her  word;  she  endeavoured  to  go  to 
sleep,  but  only  half-succeeded.  She  fell  into  a 
half-slumber,  which  left  her  floating  between  dream 
and  reality.  She  had  promised  to  think  of  nothing, 
and  yet  she  thought  of  him,  always  of  him,  of 
nothing  but  liini,  vaguely,  confusedly. 

How  long  a  time  passed  thus  she  could  not 
tell. 

All  at  once  it  seemed  to  her  that  someone  was 
walking  in  her  room ;  she  half-opened  her  eyes,  and 
thought  she  recognised  her  sister.  In  a  very  sleepy 
voice  she  said  to  her  — 

"  You  know  I  love  him." 

"  Hush  !     Go  to  sleep." 

"  I  am  asleep  !     I  am  asleep  !  " 

At  last  she  did  fall  sound  asleep,  less  profoundly, 
however,  than  usual,  for  about  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning  she  was  suddenly  awoke  by  a  noise,  which 
the  night  before  would  not  have  disturbed  her 
slumber.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and  beat  against 
her  window. 

"Oh,  it  is  raining!  "she  thought;  "he  will  get 
wet !  " 

That  was  her  first  thought.  She  rose,  crossed 
the  room  barefooted,  half-opened  the  shutters.  The 
day  had  broke,  grey  and  lowering ;  the  clouds  were 


150  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

heavy  with  rain,  the  wind  blew  tempestuously,  and 
drove  the  rain  in  gusts  before  it. 

Bettina  did  not  go  back  to  bed,  she  felt  it  would 
be  quite  impossible  to  sleep  again.  She  put  on  a 
dressing-gown,  and  remained  at  the  window ;  she 
watched  the  falling  rain.  Since  he  positively  must 
go,  she  would  have  liked  the  weather  to  be  fine  ; 
she  would  have  liked  bright  sunshine  to  have 
cheered  his  first  day's  march. 

When  she  came  to  Longueval  a  month  ago,  Bet- 
tina did  not  know  what  this  meant.  But  she  knew 
it  now.  A  day's  march  for  the  artillery  is  twenty 
or  thirty  miles,  with  an  hour's  halt  for  luncheon. 
It  was  the  Abbe  Constantin  who  had  taught  her 
that;  when  going  their  rounds  in  the  morning 
among  the  poor,  Bettina  overwhelmed  the  Cure 
with  questions  on  military  affairs,  and  particularly 
on  the  artillery. 

Twenty  or  thirty  miles  under  this  pouring  rain ! 
Poor  Jean !  Bettina  thought  of  young  Turner, 
young  Norton,  of  Paul  de  Lavardens,  who  would 
sleep  calmly  till  ten  in  the  morning,  while  Jean 
was  exposed  to  this  deluge. 

Paul  de  Lavardens ! 

This  name  awoke  in  her  a  painful  memory,  the 
memory  of  that  waltz  the  evening  before.  To  have 
danced  like  that,  while  Jean  was  so  obviously  in 
trouble !  That  waltz  took  the  proportions  of  a 
crime  in  her  eyes  ;  it  was  a  horrible  thing  that  she 
had  done. 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  151 

And  then,  had  she  not  been  wanting  in  courage 
and  frankness  in  that  Last  interview  with  Jean  ? 
He  neither  could  nor  dared  say  anything ;  but  she 
might  have  shown  more  tenderness,  more  expan- 
siveness.  Sad  and  suffering  as  he  was,  she  should 
never  have  allowed  him  to  go  back  on  foot.  She 
ought  to  have  detained  him  at  any  price.  Her  im- 
agination tormented  and  excited  her ;  Jean  must 
have  carried  away  with  him  the  impression  that  she 
was  a  bad  little  creature,  heartless  and  pitiless. 
And  in  half  an  hour  he  was  going  away,  away  for 
three  weeks.  Ah !  if  she  could  by  any  means  — 
but  there  is  away  !  The  regiment  must  pass  along 
the  wall  of  the  park,  under  the  terrace. 

Bettina  was  seized  with  a  wild  desire  to  see  Jean 
pass ;  he  would  understand  well,  if  he  saw  her  at 
such  an  hour,  that  she  had  come  to  beg  his  pardon 
for  her  cruelty  of  the  previous  evening.  Yes,  she 
would  go !  But  she  had  promised  to  Suzie  to  be  as 
good  as  an  angel,  and  to  do  what  she  was  going  to 
do,  was  that  being  as  good  as  an  angel  ?  She  would 
make  up  for  it  by  acknowledging  all  to  Suzie  when 
she  came  in  again,  and  Suzie  would  forgive  her. 

She  would  go !  She  had  made  up  her  mind. 
Only  how  should  she  dress  herself?  She  had 
nothing  at  hand  but  a  muslin  dressing-gown,  little 
high-heeled  mnles,  and  blue  satin  shoes.  She 
might  wake  her  maid.  Oh  !  never  would  she  dare 
to  do  that,  and  time  pressed;  a  quarter  to  five! 
the  reeriment  would  start  at  five  o'clock. 


152  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

She  might,  perhaps,  manage  with  the  muslin 
dressing-gown,  and  the  satin  slippers ;  in  the  hall 
she  might  find  her  hat,  her  little  sabots  which  she 
wore  in  the  garden,  and  the  large  tartan  cloak  for 
driving  in  wet  weather.  She  half-opened  her  door 
with  infinite  precautions.  Everything  slept  in  the 
house ;  she  crept  along  the  corridor,  she  descended 
the  staircase. 

If  only  the  little  sabots  are  there  in  their  place ; 
that  is  her  great  anxiety.  There  they  are !  She 
slips  them  on  over  her  satin  shoes,  she  wraps 
herself  in  her  great  mantle. 

She  hears  that  the  rain  has  redoubled  in  violence. 
She  notices  one  of  those  large  umbrellas  which  the 
footmen  use  on  the  box  in  wet  weather ;  she  seizes 
it ;  she  is  ready ;  but  when  she  is  ready  to  go  she 
sees  that  the  hall  door  is  fastened  by  a  great  iron 
bar.  She  tries  to  raise  it ;  but  the  bolt  holds  fast, 
resists  all  her  efforts,  and  the  great  clock  in  the 
hall  slowly  strikes  five.  He  is  starting  at  that 
moment. 

She  will  see  him  !  she  will  see  him  !  Her  will  is 
excited  by  these  obstacles.  She  makes  a  great 
effort ;  the  bar  yields,  slips  back  in  the  groove. 
But  Bettina  has  made  a  long  scratch  on  her  hand, 
from  which  issues  a  slender  stream  of  blood. 
Bettina  twists  her  handkerchief  round  her  hand, 
takes  her  great  umbrella,  turns  the  key  in  the  lock, 
and  opens  the  door. 

At  last  she  is  out  of  the  house ! 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  153 

The  weather  is  frightful.  The  wind  and  the 
rain  rage  together.  It  takes  five  or  six  minutes  to 
reach  the  terrace  which  looks  over  the  road. 
Bettina  darts  forward  courageously ;  her  head 
bent,  hidden  under  her  immense  umbrella,  she  has 
taken  a  few  steps.  All  at  once,  furious,  mad, 
blinding,  a  sudden  squall  bursts  upon  Bettina, 
buries  her  in  her  mantle,  drives  her  along,  lifts  her 
almost  from  the  ground,  turns  the  umbrella  vio- 
lently inside  out;  that  is  nothing,  the  disaster  is 
not  yet  complete. 

Bettina  has  lost  one  of  her  little  sabots ;  they 
were  not  practical  sabots ;  they  were  only  pretty 
little  things  for  fine  weather,  and  at  this  moment 
when  Bettina  struggles  against  the  tempest  with 
her  blue  satin  shoe  half  buried  in  the  wet  gravel, 
at  this  moment  the  wind  bears  to  her  the  distant 
echo  of  a  blast  of  trumpets.  It  is  the  regiment 
starting ! 

Bettina  makes  a  desperate  effort,  abandons  her 
umbrella,  finds  her  little  sabot,  fastens  it  on  as 
well  as  she  can,  and  starts  off  running  with  a 
deluge  descending  on  her  head. 

At  last  she  is  in  the  wood,  the  trees  protect  her 
a  little.  Another  blast,  nearer  this  time.  Bettina 
fancies  she  hears  the  rolling  of  the  gun-carriages. 
She  makes  a  last  effort,  there  is  the  terrace,  she  is 
there  just  in  time. 

Twenty  yards  off  she  perceived  the  white  horses 
of  the  trumpeters,  and  along  the  road  she  caught 


154  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

glimpses,  vaguely  appearing  through  the  fog,  of 
the  long  line  of  guns  and  waggons. 

She  sheltered  herself  under  one  of  the  old  limes 
which  bordered  the  terrace.  She  watched,  she 
waited.  He  is  there  among  that  confused  mass  of 
riders.  Will  she  be  able  to  recognise  him?  And 
he,  will  he  see  her  ?  Will  any  chance  make  him 
turn  his  head  that  way  ? 

Bettina  knows  that  he  is  lieutenant  in  the 
second  battery  of  his  regiment;  she  knows  that  a 
battery  is  composed  of  six  guns  and  six  ammuni- 
tion waggons.  Of  course  it  is  the  Abb6  Constantin 
who  has  taught  her  that.  Thus  she  must  allow  the 
first  battery  to  pass,  that  is  to  say,  count  six  guns, 
six  waggons,  and  then  —  he  will  be  there. 

There  he  is  at  last,  wrapped  in  his  great  cloak, 
and  it  is  he  who  sees,  who  recognises  her  first. 
A  few  moments  before  he  had  recalled  to  his  mind 
a  long  walk  which  he  had  taken  with  her  one  even- 
ing, when  night  was  falling,  on  that  terrace.  He 
raised  his  eyes,  and  the  very  spot  where  he  remem- 
bered having  seen  her,  was  the  spot  where  he 
found  her  again.  He  bowed,  and  bare-headed  in 
the  rain,  turning  round  in  his  saddle,  as  long  as  he 
could  see  her,  he  looked  at  her.  He  said  again  to 
himself  what  he  had  said  the  previous  evening  — 

"  It  is  for  the  last  time." 

With  a  charming  gesture  of  both  hands,  she 
returned  his  farewell,  and  this  gesture,  repeated 
many  times,  brought  her  hands  so  near,  so  near 
her  lips,  that  one  might  have  fancied  — 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 


155 


"Ah!"  she  thought,  "if  after  tliat  he  does  not 
understand  that  I  love  him,  and  does  not  forgive 
me  my  money 


9" 


.r. 


^ 


,  p,,^' • 


CHAPTER  IX. 


It  was  the  tenth  of  August,  the  day  which 
shouhl  bring  Jean  back  to  Longueval. 

Bettina  woke  very  early,  rose,  and  ran  immedi- 
ately to  the  window.  The  evening  before  the  sky 
had  looked  threatening,  heavy  with  clouds.  Bet- 
tina slept  but  little,  and  all  night  prayed  that  it 
might  not  rain  the  next  day. 

In  the  early  morning  a  dense  fog  enveloped  the 
park  of  Longueval,  the  trees  of  which  were  hidden 
from  view  as  by  a  curtain.  But  gradually  the  rays 
of  the  sun  dissipated  the  mist,  the  trees  became 
vaguely  discernible  through  the  vapour  ;  then,  sud- 
denly, the  sun  shone  brilliantly,  flooding  witli  liglit 
the  park,  and  the  fields  beyond ;  and  the  lake 
156 


THE  ABBJ^   CONSTANTIN.  157 

where  the  black  swans  were  disporting  themselves 
in  the  radiant  light,  appeared  as  bright  as  a  sheet 
of  polished  metal. 

The  weather  was  going  to  be  beautiful.  Bettina 
is  a  little  superstitious.  The  sunshine  gives  her 
good  hope  and  good  courage.  "The  day  begins 
well,  so  it  will  finish  well." 

Mr.  Scott  came  home  some  days  ago.  Suzie, 
Bettina,  and  the  children  waited  on  the  quay  at 
Havre,  for  the  arrival  of  his  steamer. 

They  exchanged  many  tender  embraces,  then 
Richard  addressing  his  sister-in-law  said  laugh- 
ingly— 

"  Well,  when  is  the  wedding  to  be  ?  " 

"What  wedding?" 

"Yours." 

"  My  wedding  ?  " 

"Yes,  certainly." 

"  And  to  whom  am  I  going  to  be  married  ?  " 

"  To  Monsieur  Jean  Reynaud." 

"  Ah !  Suzie  has  written  to  you  ?  " 

"  Suzie  ?  Not  at  all.  Suzie  has  not  said  a  word. 
It  is  you,  Bettina,  who  have  written  to  me.  For 
the  last  two  months,  all  your  letters  have  been 
occupied  with  this  young  officer." 

"All  my  letters?" 

"Yes,  and  you  have  written  to  me  oftener  and 
more  at  length  than  usual.  I  do  not  complain  of 
that,  but  I  do  ask  when  you  are  going  to  present 
me  with  a  brother-in-law  ?  " 


158  THE  abbjS  constantin. 

He  spoke  jestingly,  but  Bettina  replied  — 

"  Soon,  I  hope." 

Mr.  Scott  perceives  that  the  affair  is  serious. 
When  returning  in  the  carriage,  Bettina  asks  Mr. 
Scott  if  he  has  kept   her  letters. 

"Certainly,"  he  replies. 

She  reads  them  again.  It  is  indeed  only  with 
"Jean"  that  all  these  letters  have  been  filled. 
She  finds  therein  related,  down  to  the  most  trifling 
details,  their  first  meeting.  There  is  the  portrait 
of  Jean  in  the  vicarage  garden,  with  his  straw  hat 
and  his  earthenware  salad-dish  —  and  then  it  is 
again  Monsieur  Jean,  always  Monsieur  Jean. 

She  discovers  that  she  has  loved  him  much  longer 
than  she  had  suspected. 

Now  it  is  the  tenth  of  August.  Luncheon  is 
just  over,  and  Harry  and  Bella  are  impatient. 
They  know  that  between  one  and  two  o'clock  the 
regiment  must  go  through  the  village.  They  have 
been  promised  that  they  shall  be  taken  to  see  the 
soldiers  pass,  and  for  them  as  well  as  for  Bettina, 
the  return  of  the  9th  Artillery  is  a  great  event. 

"  Aunt  Betty,"  said  Bella,  "  Aunt  Betty,  come 
with  us." 

"  Yes,  do  come,"  said  Harry,  "  do  come,  we  shall 
see  our  friend  Jean,  on  his  big  grey  horse." 

Bettina  resisted,  refused  —  and  yet  how  great 
was  the  temptation. 

But  no,  she  would  not  go,  she  would  not  see 
Jean  again  till  the  evening,  when  she  would  give 


THE  ABBlS   CONSTANTIN.  159 

him  that  decisive  explanation  for  which  she  had 
been  preparing  herself  for  the  last  three  weeks. 

The  children  went  away  with  their  governesses. 
Bettina,  Suzie,  and  Richard,  went  to  sit  in  the 
park,  quite  close  to  the  castle,  and  as  soon  as  they 
were  established  there  — 

"  Suzie,"  said  Bettina,  "  I  am  going  to  remind 
you  to-day  of  your  promise ;  you  remember  what 
passed  between  us  the  night  of  his  departure ;  we 
settled  that  if  on  the  day  of  his  return,  I  could 
say  to  you,  'Suzie,  I  am  sure  that  I  love  him,' 
we  settled  that  you  would  allow  me  to  speak 
frankly  to  him,  and  ask  him  if  he  would  have  me 
for  his  wife." 

"Yes,  I  did  promise  you.  But  are  you  very 
sure  ?  " 

"Absolutely  —  and  now  the  time  has  come  to 
redeem  your  promise.  I  warn  you  that  I  intend  to 
bring  him  to  this  very  place  " —  she  added  smiling, 
"  to  this  seat ;  and  to  use  almost  the  same  language 
to  him  that  you  formerly  used  to  Richard.  You 
were  successful,  Suzie,  you  are  perfectly  happy, 
and  I  — that  is  what  I  wish  to  be." 

"Richard,  Suzie  has  told  you  about  Monsieur 
Reynaud  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  she  has  told  me  that  there  is  no  man 
of  whom  she  has  a  higher  opinion,  but  — " 

"  But  she  has  told  you  that  for  me  it  would  be 
a  rather  quiet,  rather  commonplace  marriage.  Oh  ! 
naughty  sister !     Will  you  believe  it,  Richard,  that 


160  THE  ABBlS   CONSTANTIN. 

I  cannot  get  this  fear  out  of  her  head  ?  She  does 
not  understand  that  before  everything  I  wish  to 
love  and  be  loved ;  will  you  believe  it,  Richard, 
that  only  last  week  she  laid  a  horrible  trap  for 
me  ?  You  know  that  there  exists  a  certain  Prince 
Romanelli  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  know  you  might  have  been  a  Princess." 

"That  would  not  have  been  immensely  difficult, 
I  believe.  Well,  one  day  I  was  so  foolish  as  to 
say  to  Suzie,  that  in  extremity,  I  might  accept  the 
Prince  Eomanelli.  Now,  just  imagine  what  she 
did  ?  The  Turners  were  at  Trouville,  Suzie  had 
arranged  a  little  plot.  We  lunched  with  the 
Prince,  but  the  result  was  disastrous.  Accept 
him !  Tl^  two  hours  that  I  passed  with  him  I 
passed  in  asking  myself  how  I  could  have  said 
such  a  thing.  No,  Richard ;  no,  Suzie ;  I  will  be 
neither  princess,  nor  marchioness,  nor  countess. 
My  wish  is  to  be  Madame  Jean  Reynaud ;  if,  how- 
ever, M.  Jean  Reynaud  will  agree  to  it,  and  that  is 
by  no  means  certain." 

The  regiment  entered  the  village,  and  suddenly 
military  music  burst  martial  and  joyous  across  the 
space.  All  thi-ee  remained  silent,  it  was  the 
regiment,  it  was  Jean  who  passed ;  the  sound  be- 
came fainter,  died  away,  and  Bettina  continued  — 

"No,  that  is  not  certain.  He  loves  me,  how- 
ever, and  much,  but  without  knowing  well  what  I 
am ;  I  think  that  I  deserve  to  be  loved  differently  ; 
I  think  that  I  should  not  cause  him  so  much  terror. 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  161 

so  much  fear,  if  he  knew  me  better,  and  that  is 
why  I  ask  you  to  permit  me  to  speak  to  him  this 
evening  freely,  from  my  heart." 

"  We  will  allow  you,"  replied  Richard,  "  you 
shall  speak  to  him  freely,  for  we  know,  both  of  us, 
Bettina,  that  you  will  never  do  anything  but  what 
is  noble  and  generous." 

"  At  least,  I  will  try." 

The  children  ran  up  to  them,  they  had  seen 
Jean,  he  was  quite  white  with  dust,  he  said  good- 
morning  to  them.  > 

"Only,"  added  Bella,  "he  is  not  very  nice,  he 
did  not  stop  to  talk  to  us,  generally  he  stops,  and 
this  time  he  wouldn't." 

"  Yes,  he  would,"  replied  Harry,  "  for  at  first  he 
seemed  as  if  he  were  going  to  —  and  then  he  would 
not,  he  went  away." 

"  Well,  he  didn't  stop,-  and  it  is  so  nice  to  talk  to 
a  soldier,  especially  when  he  is  on  horseback." 

"  It  is  not  that  only,  it  is  that  we  are  very  fond 
of  Monsieur  Jean  ;  if  you  knew,  papa,  how  kind  he 
is,  and  how  nicely  he  plays  with  us." 

"  And  what  beautiful  drawings  he  makes.  Harry, 
you  remember  that  great  Punch  who  was  so  funny^ 
with  his  stick,  you  know." 

"And  the  dog,  there  was  the  little  dog  too,  as 
in  the  show." 

The  two  children  went  away  talking  of  their 
friend  Jean. 

"Decidedly,"  said  Mr.  Scott,  "everyone  likes 
him  in  this  house." 


162  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

"And  you  will  be  like  everyone  else  when  you 
know  him,"  replied  Bettina. 

The  regiment  broke  into  a  trot  along  the  high 
road,  after  leaving  the  village.  There  was  the  ter- 
race where  Bettina  had  been  the  other  morning. 
Jean  said  to  himself  — 

"  Supposing  she  should  be  there." 

He  dreads  and  hopes  it  at  the  same  time.  He 
raises  his  head,  he  looks,  she  is  not  there. 

He  has  not  seen  her  again,  he  will  not  see  her 
again,  for  a  long  time  at  least.  He  will  start  that 
very  evening  at  six  o'clock  for  Paris ;  one  of  the 
personages  in  the  War  Office  is  interested  in  him ; 
he  will  try  to  get  exchanged  into  another  regiment. 

Alone  at  Cercottes,  Jean  has  had  time  to  reflect 
deeply,  and  this  is  the  result  of  his  reflections.  He 
cannot,  he  must  not,  be  Bettina  Percival's  husband. 

The  men  dismount  at  the  barracks,  Jean  takes 
leave  of  his  colonel,  his  comrades  ;  all  is  over.  He 
is  free,  he  can  go. 

But  he  does  not  go  yet;  he  looks  around  him, 
how  happy  he  was  three  months  ago,  when  he  rode 
out  of  that  great  yard  amidst  the  noise  of  the  can- 
non rolling  over  the  pavement  of  Souvigny,  but 
how  sadly  he  would  ride  away  to-day.  Formerly 
his  life  was  there,  where  would  it  be  now  ? 

He  returns,  he  goes  to  his  own  room,  he  writes 
to  Mrs.  Scott ;  he  tells  her  that  his  duties  oblige 
him  to  leave  immediately,  he  cannot  dine  at  the 
castle,  and  begs  Mrs.   Scott  to  remember  him  to 


THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN.  163 

Miss  Bettina.  Bettina,  ah !  what  trouble  it  cost 
him  to  write  that  name ;  he  closes  his  letter,  he 
will  send  it  directly. 

He  makes  his  preparations  for  departure  ;  then  he 
will  go  to  wish  his  godfather  farewell.  That  is 
what  cost  him  most,  he  will  only  speak  to  him  of 
a  short  absence. 

He  opens  one  of  the  drawers  of  his  bureau  to  take 
out  some  money.  The  first  thing  that  meets  his 
eyes  is  a  little  note  on  bluish  paper,  it  is  the  only 
note  Avhich  he  has  ever  received  from  her. 

"  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  give  to  the  ser- 
vant the  book  of  which  you  spoke  yesterday  even- 
ing. Perhaps  it  will  be  a  little  serious  for  me,  but 
yet  I  should  like  to  try  to  read  it.  We  shall  see 
you  to-night ;  come  as  early  as  possible."  It  is 
signed  ''Bettina." 

Jean  read  and  re-read  these  few  lines,  but  soon 
he  could  read  them  no  longer,  his  eyes  were  dim. 

"  It  is  all  that  is  left  me  of  her,"  he  thought. 

At  the  same  moment  the  Abbe  Constantin  was 
t^te-ci-tete  with  old  Pauline,  they  were  making  up 
their  accounts.  The  financial  situation  is  admira- 
ble ;  more  than  two  thousand  francs  in  hand  !  And 
the  wishes  of  Suzie  and  Bettina  are  accomplished, 
there  are  no  more  poor  in  the  neighbourhood.  His 
old  servant,  Pauline,  has  even  occasional  scruples 
of  conscience. 

"  You  see.  Monsieur  le  Cure,"  said  she,  "  perhaps 
we  give  them  a  little  too  much.     Then  it  will  be 


164  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

spread  about  in  other  parishes  that  here  they  can 
always  find  charity.  And  do  you  knovv'  what  will 
happen  then  one  of  these  days  ?  Poor  people  will 
come  and  settle  at  Longueval." 

The  Cure  gave  fifty  francs  to  Pauline.  She  went 
away  to  take  them  to  a  poor  man  who  had  broken 
his  arm  a  few  days  before  by  falling  from  the  top 
of  a  hay-cart. 

The  Abbe  Constantin  remained  alone  in  the  vicar- 
age. He  is  rather  anxious.  He  has  watched  for  the 
passing  of  the  regiment ;  but  Jean  only  stopped 
for  a  moment,  he  looked  sad.  For  some  time  the 
Abbe  had  noticed  that  Jean  had  no  longer  the  flow 
of  good  humour  and  gaiety  he  once  possessed.  * 

The  Cure  did  not  disturb  himself  too  much  about 
it,  believing  it  to  be  one  of  those  little  youthful 
troubles  which  did  not  concern  a  poor  old  priest. 
But  on  this  occasion  Jean's  disturbance  was  very 
perceptible. 

"  I  will  come  back  directly,"  he  said  to  the  Cure, 
"  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

He  turned  abruptly  away.  The  Abbe  Constantin 
had  not  even  had  time  to  give  Loulou  his  piece  of 
sugar,  or  rather  his  pieces  of  sugar,  for  he  had  put 
five  or  six  in  his  pocket,  considering  that  Loulou 
had  well  deserved  this  feast  by  ten  long  days'  march, 
and  a  score  of  nights  passed  under  the  open  sky. 

Besides,  since  Mrs.  Scott  had  lived  at  Longueval 
Loulou  had  very  often  had  several  pieces  of  sugar ; 
the    Abbe    Constantin    had    become    extravagant, 


THE  ABB1$   COJ^STANTIN.  165 

prodigal ;  he  felt  himself  a  millionaire,  the  sugar 
for  Loulou  was  one  of  his  follies.  One  day  even  he 
had  been  on  the  point  of  addressing  to  Loulou  his 
everlasting  little  speech  — 

"  This  conies  from  the   new  mistresses  of  Lon- 
gueval ;  pray  for  them  to-night." 

It  was  three  o'clock  when  Jean  arrived  at  the 
vicarage,  and  the  Cure  said  immediately  — 

"  You  told  me  that  you  wanted  to  speak  to  me, 
what  is  it  about  ?  " 

"  About   something,    my   dear   godfather,  which 
will  surprise  you,  will  grieve  you  —  " 

"Grieve  me!" 

"  Yes,  and  which  grieves  me  too  —  " 
*    "I  have  come  to  bid  you  farewell." 

"  Farewell !  you  are  going  away  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  away." 

"  When  ?  " 

"  To-day,  in  two  hours." 

"  In   two   hours  ?     But,  my   dear   boy,  we  Avere 
going  to  dine  at  the  castle  to-night." 

"  I  have  just  written  to  Mrs.  Scott  to  excuse  me. 
I  am  positively  obliged  to  go." 

"  Directly  ?  " 

"Directly." 

"  And  where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  To  Paris." 

"  To  Paris  !     Why  this  sudden  determination  ?  " 

"  Not  so  very  sudden  !     I  have  thought  about  it 
for  a  long  time." 


166  THE  ABBE    CON  ST  AN  TIN. 

"  And  you  have  said  nothing  about  it  to  me  ! 
Jean,  something  has  happened.  You  are  a  man, 
and  I  have  no  longer  the  right  to  treat  you  as  a 
child  ;  but  you  know  how  much  I  love  you  ;  if  you 
have  vexations,  troubles,  why  not  tell  them  to  me? 
I  could  perhaps  advise  you.  Jean,  why  go  to 
Paris  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  tell  you,  it  will  give  you  pain  ; 
but  you  have  the  right  to  know.  I  am  going  to 
Paris  to  ask  to  be  exchanged  into  another  regi- 
ment." 

"Into  another  regiment !     To  leave  Souvigny  !  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  just  it,  I  must  leave  Souvigny  for 
a  short  time,  for  a  little  while  only,  but  to  leave 
Souvigny  is  necessary,  it  is  what  I  wish  above  all 
things." 

"And  what  about  me,  Jean,  do  you  not  think  of 
me  ?  A  little  while  !  A  little  while  !  But  that  is 
all  that  remains  to  me  of  life,  a  little  while.  And 
during  these  last  days,  that  I  owe  to  the  grace  of 
God,  it  was  my  happiness,  yes,  Jean,  my  happiness, 
to  feel  you  here,  near  me,  and  now  you  are  going 
away  !  Jean,  wait  a  little  patiently,  it  cannot  be  for 
very  long  now.  Wait  until  the  good  God  has  called 
me  to  Himself,  wait  till  I  shall  be  gone,  to  meet 
there,  at  His  side,  your  father  and  your  mother. 
Uo  not  go,  Jean,  do  not  go." 

"  If  you  love  me,  I  love  you  too,  and  you  know 
it  well." 

"Yes,  I  know  it." 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  167 

"I  have  just  the  same  affection  for  you  now 
that  I  had  when  I  was  quite  little,  when  you  took 
me  to  yourself,  when  you  brought  me  up.  My 
heart  has  not  changed,  will  never  change.  But  if 
duty — if  honour  —  oblige  me  to  go?" 

"Ah !  if  it  is  duty,  if  it  is  honour,  I  say  nothing 
more,  Jean,  that  stands  before  all !  —  all!  —  all!  I 
have  always  known  you  a  good  judge  of  your  duty, 
your  honour.  Go,  my  boy,  go,  I  ask  you  nothing 
more,  I  wish  to  know  no  more." 

"But  I  wish  to  tell  you  all,"  cried  Jean,  van- 
quished by  his  emotion,  "  and  it  is  better  that  you 
should  know  alL  You  will  stay  here,  you  will 
return  to  the  castle,  you  will  see  her  again — her ! " 

"  See  her  !     Who  ?  " 

"Bettina!" 

"Bettina?" 

"  I  adore  her,  I  adore  her ! " 

"  Oh  !  my  poor  boy  ! " 

"  Pardon  me  for  speaking  to  you  of  these  things ; 
but  I  tell  you  as  I  would  have  told  my  father." 

■  "  And  then,  I  have  not  been  able  to  speak  of  it 
to  anyone,  and  it  stifled  me ;  yes,  it  is  madness 
which  has  seized  me,  which  has  grown  upon  me 
little  by  little  against  my  will,  for  you  knew  very 

well My  God!    It  was  here  that  I  began  to 

love  her.  You  know,  when  she  came  here  with  her 
sister — the  little  rouleaux  of  a  thousand  francs  — 
her  hair  fell  down — and  then  the  evening,  the 
month  of  Mary.     Then  I  was  permitted  to  see  her 


168  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

freely,  familiarly,  and  yon  yourself  spoke  to  me 
constantly  of  her.  You  praised  her  sweetness,  her 
goodness.  How  often  have  you  told  me  that  there 
was  no  one  in  the  world  better  than  she  is  !  " 

"And  I  thought  it,  and  I  think  it  still.  And  no 
one  here  knows  her  better  than  I  do,  for  it  is  I 
alone  who  have  seen  her  with  the  poor.  If  you  only 
knew  how  tender  and  how  good  she  is  ?  Neither 
wretchedness  nor  suffering  repulse  her.  l>ut,  my 
dear  boy,  I  am  wrong  to  tell  you  all  this." 

"  No,  no,  I  will  see  her  no  more,  I  promise  you ; 
but  I  like  to  hear  you  speak  of  her." 

"  In  your  whole  life,  Jean,  you  will  never  meet 
a  better  woman,  nor  one  who  has  more  elevated 
sentiments.  To  such  a  point,  that  one  day  —  she 
had  taken  me  with  her  in  an  open  carriage,  full  of 
toys — she  was  taking  these  toys  to  a  poor  little 
sick  girl,  and  when  she  gave  them  to  her,  to  make 
the  poor  little  thing  laugh,  to  amuse  her,  she 
talked  so  prettily  to  her  that  I  thought  of  you, 
and  I  said  to  myself,  I  remember  it  now,  'Ah  if 
she  were  poor  ! ' " 

"Ah  !  if  she  were  poor,  but  she  is  not." 

"  Oh,  no !  But  what  can  you  do,  my  poor  child  ! 
If  it  gives  you  pain  to  see  her,  to  live  near  her, 
above  an,  if  it  will  prevent  you  suffering — go,  go  — 
and  yet,  and  yet  —  " 

The  old  priest  became  thoughtful,  let  his  head 
fall  between  his  hands,  and  remained  silent  for 
some  moments;  then  he  continued  — 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  169 

"  And  yet,  Jean,  do  you  know  what  I  think  ? 
I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  Mademoiselle  Bettina 
since  she  came  to  Longueval.  Well — when  I 
reflect — it  did  not  astonish  me  then  that  anyone 
should  be  interested  in  you,  for  it  seemed  so  natural 
— but  she  talked  always,  yes,  always  of  you." 

"Of  me?" 

"  Yes,  of  you,  and  of  your  father  and  mother,  she 
was  curious  to  know  how  you  lived.  She  begged 
me  to  explain  to  her  what  a  soldier's  life  was,  the 
life  of  a  true  soldier  who  loved  his  profession,  and 
performed  his  duties  conscientiously. 

"  It  is  extraordinary,  since  you  have  told  me  this, 
recollections  crowd  upon  me,  a  thousand  little  things 
collect  and  group  themselves  together.  They 
returned  from  Havre  yesterday  at  three  o'clock. 
Well !  an  hour  after  their  arrival  she  was  here. 
And  it  was  of  you  of  whom  she  spoke  directly. 
She  asked  if  you  had  written  to  me,  if  you  had  not 
been  ill,  when  you  would  arrive,  at  what  hour,  if 
the  regiment  would  pass  tlirough  the  village." 

"It  is  useless  at  this  moment,  my  dear  god- 
father," said  Jean,  "to  recall  all  these  memories." 

"  'No,  it  is  not  useless. 

"She  seemed  so  pleased,  so  happy  even,  that  she 
should  see  you  again !  She  would  make  quite  a 
fete  of  the  dinner  this  evening.  She  would  in- 
troduce you  to  her  brother-in-law  who  has  come 
back.  There  is  no  one  else  in  the  house  at  this 
moment,  not  a  single  visitor.     She  insisted  strongly 


170  THE  ABBJ^   CONSTANTIN. 

on  this  point,  and  I  remember  her  last  words  —  she 
was  there,  on  the  threshold  of  the  door  — 

" '  There  will  only  be  five  of  us,'  she  said,  '  you 
and  Monsieur  Jean,  my  sister,  my  brother-in-law, 
and  myself.' 

"  And  then  she  added,  laughing,  '  Quite  a  family 
party.' 

"With  these  words  she  went,  she  almost  ran 
away.  Quite  a  family  party  !  Do  you  know  what 
I  think,  Jean  ?     Do  you  know  ?  " 

"You  must  not  think  that,  you  must  not." 

"Jean,  I  believe  that  she  loves  you!" 

"  And  I  believe  it  too." 

"You  too!" 

"When  I  left  her,  three  weeks  ago,  she  was  so 
agitated,  so  moved  !  She  saw  me  sad  and  unhappy, 
she  would  not  let  me  go>  Jt  was  at  the  door  of  the 
castle.  I  was  obliged  to  tear  myself,  yes,  literally 
tear  myself,  away.  I  should  have  spoken,  burst 
out,  told  her  all.  After  having  gone  a  few  steps  I 
stopped  and  turned.  She  could  no  longer  see  me, 
I  was  lost  in  the  darkness ;  but  I  could  see  her. 
She  stood  there  motionless,  her  shoulders  and  arms 
bare,  in  the  rain,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  way  by 
which  I  had  gone.  Perhaps  I  am  mad  to  think 
that.  Perhaps  it  was  only  a  feeling  of  pity.  But 
no,  it  was  something  more  than  pity,  for  do  you 
know  what  she  did  the  next  morning  ?  She  came 
at  five  o'clock  in  the  most  frightful  weather  tc  see 
me  pass  with  tlie  regiment — and   then  —  the  vvay 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  171 

she  bade  me  adieu  —  oh!  my  friend,  my  dear  old 
friend ! " 

"But  then, "'said  the  poor  Cure,  completely  be- 
wildered, completely  at  a  loss,  "  but  then  I  do  not 
understand  you  at  all.  If  you  love  her,  Jean,  and 
if  she  loves  you  ?  " 

"But  that  is,  above  all,  the  reason  why  I  must 
go.  If  it  were  only  me,  if  I  were  certain  that  she 
has  not  perceived  my  love,  certain  that  she  has 
not  been  touched  by  it,  I  would  stay,  I  would 
stay  —  for  nothing  but  for  the  sweet  joy  of  see- 
ing her,  and  I  would  love  her  from  afar,  without 
any  hope,  for  nothing  but  the  happiness  of  loving 
her.  But  no,  she  has  understood  too  well,  and  far 
from  discouraging  me  —  that  is  what  forces  me  to 
go." 

"  ISTo,  I  do  not  understand  it !  I  know  well,  my 
poor  boy,  we  are  speaking  of  things  in  which  I  am 
no  great  scholar,  but  you  are  both  good,  young,  and 
charming;  you  love  her,  she  would  love  you,  and 
you  will  not !  " 

"  And  her  money !  her  money ! " 

"What  matters  her  money.  If  it  is  only  that, 
is  it  because  of  her  money  that  you  have  loved 
her  ?  It  is  rather  in  spite  of  her  money.  Your 
conscience,  my  son,  would  be  quite  at  peace  with 
regard  to  that,  and  that  would  suffice." 

"No,  that  would  not  suffice.  To  have  a  good 
opinion  of  one's  self  is  not  enough;  that  opinion 
must  be  shared  by  others." 


172  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

"Oil,  Jean!  Among  all  who  know  you,  wlio 
can  doubt  you  ?  " 

"  Who  knows  ?  And  then  there  is  another  thing 
besides  this  question  of  money,  another  thing  more 
serious  and  more  grave.  I  am  not  the  husband 
suited  to  her." 

"  And  who  could  be  more  worthy  than  you  ?  " 

"  The  question  to  be  considered  is  not  my  worth  ; 
we  have  to  consider  what  she  is  and  what  I  am,  to 
ask  what  ought  to  be  her  life  and  what  ought  to  be 
my  life. 

"  One  day,  Paul  —  you  know  he  has  rather  a  blunt 
way  of  saying  things,  but  that  very  bluntness  often 
places  thoughts  much  more  clearly  before  us — we 
were  speaking  of  her ;  Paul  did  not  suspect  any- 
thing; if  he  had,  he  is  good-natured,  he  would  not 
have  spoken  thus  —  well !  he  said  to  me 

" '  What  she  needs  is  a  husband  who  would  be  en- 
tirely devoted  to  her,  to  her  alone,  a  husband  who 
would  have  no  other  care  than  to  make  her  exist- 
ence a  perpetual  holiday,  a  husband  who  would 
give  himself,  his  whole  life,  in  return  for  her 
money.' 

''  You  know  me ;  such  a  husband  I  cannot,  I 
must  not  be.  I  am  a  soldier,  and  will  remain  one. 
If  the  chances  of  my  career  sent  me  some  day  to  a 
garrison  in  the  depths  of  the  Alps,  or  in  some 
almost  unknown  village  in  Algeria,  could  I  ask  her 
to  follow  me  ?  Could  I  condemn  her  to  the  life  of 
a  soldier's  wife,  which  is  in  some  deerree  the  life 


THE  abbE  constantin.  173 

of  a  soldier  himself?  Think  of  the  life  which  she 
leads  now,  of  all  that  luxury,  of  all  those  pleasures !" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Abbe,  "that  is  more  serious  than 
the  question  of  money." 

"  So  serious  that  there  is  no  hesitation  possible. 
During  the  three  weeks  that  I  passed  alone  in  the 
camp  I  have  well  considered  all  that ;  I  have 
thought  of  nothing  else,  and  loving  her  as  I  do  love, 
the  reason  must  indeed  be  strong  which  shows  me 
clearly  my  duty.  I  must  go.  I  must  go  far,  very 
far  away,  as  far  as  possible.  I  shall  suffer  much, 
but  I  must  not  see  her  again  !  I  must  not  see  her 
again  !  " 

Jean  sank  on  a  chair  near  the  fire-place.  He  re- 
mained there  quite  overpowered  with  his  emotion. 
The  old  priest  looked  at  him. 

"  To  see  you  suffer,  my  poor  boy  !  That  such 
suffering  should  fall  upon  you  !  It  is  too  cruel,  too 
unjust ! " 

At  that  moment  someone  knocked  gently  at  the 
door. 

"  Ah ! "  said  the  Cure,  "  do  not  be  afraid,  Jean. 
I  will  send  them  away." 

The  Abbe  went  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  re- 
coiled as  if  before  an  unexpected  apparition. 

It  was  Bettina.  In  a  moment  she  had  seen  Jean, 
and  going  direct  to  him  — 

"  You ! "  cried  she.     "  Oh  !  hoAv  glad  I  am  ! " 

He  rose.  She  took  his  hands,  and  addressing  the 
Cure,  she  said  — 


174  THE  ABB^   CONSTANTIN. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  for  going 
to  him  first.  You  I  saw  yesterday,  and  him  not 
for  three  whole  weeks,  not  since  a  certain  night 
when  he  left  our  house,  sad  and  suffering." 

She  still  held  Jean's  hands.  He  had  neither 
power  to  make  a  movement  nor  to  utter  a  sound. 

"  And  now,"  continued  Bettina,  ''  are  you  better  ? 
No,  not  yet,  I  can  see,  still  sad.  Ah,  I  have  done 
well  to  come  !  It  was  an  inspiration !  However, 
it  embarrasses  me  a  little,  it  embarrasses  me  a  great 
deal,  to  find  you  here.  You  will  understand  why 
when  you  know  what  I  have  come  to  ask  of  your 
godfather." 

She  relinquished  his  hands,  and  turning  towards 
the  Abbe,  said  — 

"  I  have  come  to  beg  you  to  listen  to  my  con- 
fession— yes,  my  confession.  But  do  not  go  away, 
Monsieur  Jean ;  I  will  make  my  confession  publicly. 
I  am  quite  willing  to  speak  before  you,  and  now  I 
think  of  it,  it  will  be  better  thus.  Let  us  sit  down, 
shall  we  ?  " 

She  felt  herself  full  of  confidence  and  daring. 
She  burnt  with  fever,  but  with  that  fever  which,  on 
the  field  of  battle,  gives  to  a  soldier  ardour,  hero- 
ism, and  disdain  of  danger.  The  emotion  which 
made  Bettina's  heart  beat  quicker  than  usual  was  a 
high  and  generous  emotion.     She  said  to  herself — 

"I  will  be  loved  !  T  will  love  !  I  will  be  happy! 
I  will  make  him  happy  !  And  since  he  cannot  have 
the  courage  to  do  it,  I  must  have  it  for  both.    I 


THE  ABBJ^   CONSTANTIN.  175 

must  march  alone,  my  head  high,  and  my  heart  at 
ease,  to  the  conquest  of  our  love,  to  the  conquest  of 
our  happiness  ! " 

From  her  first  words  Bettina  had  gained  over  the 
Abbe  and  Jean  a  complete  ascendant.  They  let 
her  say  what  she  liked,  they  let  her  do  as  she  liked, 
they  felt  that  the  hour  was-  supreme ;  they  under- 
stood that  what  was  happening  would  be  decisive, 
irrevocable,  but  neither  was  in  a  position  to  fore- 
see. 

They  sat  down  obediently,  almost  automatically ; 
they  waited,  they  listened.  Alone  of  the  three 
Bettina  retained  her  composure.  It  was  in  a  calm 
and  even  voice  that  she  began. 

"I  must  tell  you  first.  Monsieur  le  Cur^,  to  set 
your  conscience  quite  at  rest,  I  must  tell  you  that 
I  am  here  with  the  consent  of  my  sister  and  my 
brother-in-law.  They  know  why  I  have  come; 
they  know  what  I  am  going  to  do.  They  not  only 
know,  but  they  approve.  That  is  settled,  is  it 
not  ?  Well,"  what  brings  me  here  is  your  letter. 
Monsieur  Jean,  that  letter  in  which  you  tell  my 
sister  that  you  cannot  dine  with  us  this  evening, 
and  that  you  are  positively  obliged  to  leave  here. 
This  letter  has  unsettled  all  my  plans.  I  had  in- 
tended this  evening  —  of  course  with  the  permission 
of  my  sister  and  brother-in-law  —  Iliad  intended 
after  dinner  to  take  you  into  the  park,  to  seat  my- 
self with  you  on  a  bench;  I  was  childish  enough 
to  choose  the  place  beforehand.     There  I  should 


176  THE  ABB1$   CONSTANTIN. 

have  delivered  a  little  speech,  well  prepared,  well 
studied,  almost  learnt  -by  heart,  for  since  your  de- 
parture I  have  scarcely  thought  of  anything  else; 
I  repeat  it  to  myself  from  morning  to  night.  That 
is  what  I  had  proposed  to  do,  and  you  understand 
that  your  letter  caused  me  much  embarrassment. 
I  reflected  a  little,  and  thought  that  if  I  addressed 
my  little  speech  to  your  godfather  it  would  be 
almost  the  same  as  if  I  addressed  it  to  you.  So  I 
have  come,  Monsieur  le  Cur6,  to  beg  you  to  listen  to 
me." 

"I  will  listen  to  you,  Miss  Percival,"  stammered 
the  Abbe. 

"  I  am  rich,  Monsieur  le  Cur^,  I  am  very  rich, 
and  to  speak  frankly  I  love  my  wealth  very  much 
—  yes,  very  much.  To  it  I  owe  the  luxury  which 
surrounds  me,  luxury  which,  I  acknowledge  —  it  is 
a  confession — is  by  no  means  disagreeable  to 
me.  My  excuse  is  that  I  am  still  very  young;  it 
will  perhaps  pass  as  I  grow  older,  but  of  that 
I  am  not  very  sure.  I  have  another  excuse ;  it  is, 
that  if  I  love  money  a  little  for  the  pleasure  that 
it  procures  me,  I  love  it  still  more  for  the  good 
which  it  allows  me  to  do.  I  love  it  —  selfishly, 
if  you  like  —  for  the  joy  of  giving,  but  I  think 
that  my  fortune  is  not  very  badly  placed  in  my 
hands.  Well,  Monsieur  le  Cur^,  in  the  same 
way  that  you  have  the  care  of  souls,  it  seems 
that  T  have  the  care  of  money.  I  have  always 
thought,    -I  wish,  above  all   things,  that  my  hus- 


THE  ABB  IS   CONSTANTIN.  Ill 

band  should  be  worthy  of  sharing  this  great  for- 
tune. I  wish  to  be  very  sure  that  he  will  make 
a  good  use  of  it  with  me  while  I  am  here,  and 
after  me  if  I  must  leave  this  world  first.'  I 
thought  of  another  thing ;  I  thought,  'He  who  will 
be  my  husband  must  be  someone  I  can  love ! ' 
And  now,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  this  is  where  my  con- 
fession really  begins.  There  is  a  man  who  for  the 
last  two  months  has  done  all  he  can  to  conceal 
from  me  that  he  loves  me,  but  I  do  not  doubt  that 
this  man  loves  me.     You  do  love  me,  Jean  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Jean,  in  a  low  voice,  his  eyes  cast 
down,  looking  like  a  criminal,  "  I  do  love  you ! " 

"  I  knew  it  very  well,  but  I  wanted  to  hear  you 
say  it,  and  now,  I  entreat  you,  do  not  utter  a  single 
word.  Any  words  of  yours  would  be  useless,  would 
disturb  me,  would  prevent  me  from  going  straight 
to  my  aim,  and  telling  you  what  I  positively  intend 
to  say.  Promise  me  to  stay  there,  sitting  still, 
Avithout  moving,  without  speaking.  You  promise 
me  ?  " 

"  I  promise  you." 

Bettina,  as  she  went  on  speaking,  began  to  lose  a 
little  of  her  confidence  ;  her  voice  trembled  slightly. 
She  continued,  however,  with  a  gaiety  that  was  a 
little  forced. 

"  Monsieur  le  Cure,  I  do  not  blame  you  for  what 
has  happened,  yet  all  this  is  a  little  your  fault." 

"  My  fault !  " 

"  Ah  !  do  not  speak,  not  even  you.     Yes,  I  repeat 


178  THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN. 

it,  your  fault.  I  am  certain  that  you  have  spoken 
well  of  me  to  Jean,  much  too  well.  Perhaps  with- 
out that  he  would  not  have  thought And  at 

the  same  time  you  have  spoken  very  well  of  him  to 
me.  Not  too  well  —  no,  no — but  yet  very  well! 
Then  I  had  so  much  confidence  in  you  that  I  began 
to  look  at  him,  and  examine  him  Avith  a  little 
more  attention.  I  began  to  compare  him  with 
those  who,  during  the  last  year,  had  asked  my  hand. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  in  every  respect 
superior  to  them. 

"  At  last  it  hai^pened  on  a  certain  day,  or  rather 
on  a  certain  evening  —  three  weeks  ago,  the  even- 
ing before  you  left  here,  Jean  —  I  discovered  that 
I  loved  you.  Yes,  Jean,  I  love  you  !  I  entreat 
you,  do  not  speak ;  stay  where  you  are ;  do  not 
come  near  me. 

"Before  I  came  here  I  thought  I  had  supplied 
myself  with  a  good  stock  of  courage,  but  you  see  I 
have  no  longer  my  fine  composure  of  a  minute  ago. 
But  I  have  still  something  to  tell  you,  and  the  most 
important  of  all.  Jean,  listen  to  me  Avell ;  I  do  not 
wish  for  a  reply  torn  from  your  emotion ;  I  know 
that  you  love  me.  If  you  marry  me,  I  do  not  wish 
it  to  be  only  for  love;  I  wish  it  to  be  also  for  reason. 
During  the  fortnight  before  you  left  here,  you  took 
so  much  pains  to  avoid  me,  to  escape  any  conversa- 
tion, that  I  have  not  been  able  to  show  myself  to 
you  as  I  am.  Perhaps  there  are  in  me  certain 
qualities  which  you  do  not  suspect. 


THE  ABBE   CONSTANTIN.  179 

"  Jean,  I  know  what  you  are,  I  know  to  what  I 
should  bind  myself  in  marrying  you,  and  I  would 
be  for  you  not  only  the  loving  and  tender  woman, 
but  the  courageous  and  constant  wife.  I  know  your 
entire  life ;  your  godfather  has  related  it  to  me.  I 
know  why  you  became  a  soldier ;  I  know  what 
duties,  what  sacrifices,  the  future  may  demand  from 
you.  Jean,  do  not  suppose  that  I  will  turn  you 
from  any  of  these  duties,  from  any  of  these  sacri- 
fices. If  I  could  be  disappointed  with  you  for  any- 
thing, it  would  be,  perhaps,  for  this  thought  —  oh  ! 
you  must  have  had  it  —  that  I  should  wish  you 
free,  and  quite  my  own,  that  I  should  ask  you  to 
abandon  your  career.  Never!  never!  Understand 
well,  I  will  never  ask  such  a  thing  of  you. 

"  A  young  girl  whom  I  know  did  that  when  she 
married,  and  she  did  wrong.  I  love  you,  and  I  wish 
you  to  be  just  what  you  are.  It  is  because  you  live 
differently  from,  and  better  than  those  who  have 
before  desired  me  for  a  wife,  that  I  desire  you  for  a 
husband.  I  should  love  you  less — perhaps  I  should 
not  love  you  at  all,  though  that  would  be  very  dif- 
ficult— if  you  were  to  begin  to  live  as  all  those 
live  whom  I  would  not  have.  When  I  can  follow 
you,  I  will  follow  you ;  wherever  you  are  will  be 
my  duty,  wherever  you  are  will  be  ray  happiness. 
And  if  the  day  comes  when  you  cannot  take  me,  the 
day  when  you  must  go  alone,  well !  Jean,  on  that 
day  I  promise  you  to  be  brave,  and  not  take  your 
courage  from  you. 


180  THE  ABBE    CONSTANTIN. 

"  And  now,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  it  is  not  to  him,  it 
is  to  you  that  I  ain  speaking ;  I  want  you  to  answer 
me,  not  him.  Tell  me,  if  he  loves  me,  and  feels  me 
worthy  of  his  love,  would  it  be  just  to  make  me  ex- 
piate so  severely  the  fortune  that  I  possess  ?  Tell 
me,  should  he  not  agree  to  be  my  husband  ?  " 

''  Jean,"  said  the  old  priest  gravely,  "  marry  her. 
It  is  your  duty,  and  it  will  be  your  happiness  ! " 

Jean  approached  Bettina,  took  her  in  his  arms, 
and  pressed  uj)on  her  brow  the  first  kiss. 

Bettina  gently  freed  herself,  and  addressing  the 
Abbe  said  — 

"  And  now,  Monsieur  I'Abbe,  I  have  still  one 
thing  to  ask  you.     I  wish  —  I  wish  —  " 

"  You  wish  ?  " 

"  Pray,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  embrace  me  too." 

The  old  priest  kissed  her  paternally  on  both 
cheeks,  and  then  Bettina  continued  — 

"  You  have  often  told  me.  Monsieur  le  Cure,  that 
Jean  was  almost  like  your  own  son,  and  I  shall  be 
almost  like  your  own  daughter,  shall  I  not  ?  So 
you  will  have  two  children,  that  is  all." 


A  month  after,  on  the  12th  of  September,  at  mid- 
day, Bettina,  in  the  simplest  of  wedding  dresses, 
entered  the  church  of  Longueval  while,  placed  be- 
hind the  altar,  the  trumpets  of  the  9th  Artillery 
rang  joyously  through  the  arches  of  the  old  church. 

Nancy  Turner  had  begged  for  the  honour  of  play- 


THE  ABBE   CON  STAN  TIN.  181 

ing  the  organ  on  this  solemn  occasion,  for  the  poor 
little  harmonium  had.  disappeared,  an  organ  with 
resplendent  pipes  'rose  in  the  gallery  of  the  church 
— it  was  Miss  Percival's  wedding  present  to  the 
Abbe  Constantin. 

The  old  Cure  said  mass,  Jean  and  Bettina  knelt 
before  him,  he  pronounced  the  Benediction,  and 
then  remained  for  some  moments  in  prayer,  his 
arms  extended  ;  calling  down  with  his  whole  soul, 
the  blessings  of  Heaven  on  his  two  children. 

Then  floated  from  the  organ  the  same  reverie  of 
Chopin's  which  Bettina  had  played  the  first  time 
that  she  had  entered  that  little  village  church,  where 
was  to  be  consecrated  the  happiness  of  her  life. 

And  this  time  it  was  Bettina  who  wept. 

tup:  exd. 


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